


All I Want for Christmas is a (Fake) Boyfriend

by SearchingForMercury



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Christmas, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Taco Bell, cliche as all hell, fake bf story alert alert!, that's important
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-02-13 07:00:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12978606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SearchingForMercury/pseuds/SearchingForMercury
Summary: A while ago, in a fit of anger, Keith told his mom he had a boyfriend. Did he actually have a boyfriend? No. Did he care? Also no. At least, not until his mom, months later, tells him to bring his supposed boyfriend over for the holidays. Not wanting to admit he doesn't have one, Keith asks around for someone to play the role and who agrees to play the part? The annoying guy from his Lit class.





	1. Chapter 1

Two weeks into December should have been the time to breathe easy, where the only stress ought to have been in preparation for and during finals week. The flurry of books and exams, papers and projects, all crammed into the last week of the semester. Long hours of studying could finally turn into hours of caught up sleep, of eating full meals at a normal pace. Dishes piled haphazardly in the sink could be washed, laundry done, and, of course, packing up the car to drive home for the holidays.

But that was exactly Keith's problem: the holidays. He'd promised his mom he would drive the several hours it took to get there and stay a couple days for Christmas. He'd done it before and he'd do it again, gladly, if it hadn't been for one little thing -- his mom told him to bring his boyfriend.

He didn't _have_ a boyfriend.

A couple years back, he'd come out to his parents as gay and his dad was far more supportive than Keith had ever dreamt. But his mom? His mom was... _doubtful_. He didn't understand it and his dad tried talking to him about it before, but the point remained: his mom didn't believe he was actually gay. Maybe it had something to do with how, after his parents divorced, Keith had gone to live with his dad and his mom felt left out. Maybe she just couldn't wrap her head around the idea, maybe she needed time. There were a gazillion possibilities and he only thought about them _after_ he got mad.

In a fit of fury, he'd told her he was going steady with a guy from school and things were _great_ ; his relationship, his life, everything! He'd wanted to rub it in her face that he was gay and doing just fine! Better than fine!

Time had passed and he'd sort of forgot about his fake boyfriend until about an hour ago when his mom called. What was he going to do? He either needed to find a boyfriend or come clean to his mom and just feel the "I knew it" vibes that would surely radiate from her the entire time he was there. 

No, that wasn't an option. He had to think of something else. 

So he pulled out his phone and typed out something, thought about it, erased some words and retyped a few, and then sent it to two people. As soon as he hit send, however, he felt regret surge up from the depths of his stomach. His thumping heart didn't help any, either. 

It was a stupid idea, but that only made sense because he was a stupid person. Stupid, stupid, stupid--

His phone chirped at him. Someone had responded.

Unfortunately, it was Allura with a solid, "No, sorry, I don't think I know anyone who could help! Maybe try Pidge?"

But he was way ahead of her. He'd already texted Pidge and he was _really_ hoping she had a better answer. She was probably at work, though, so Keith went around trying to keep busy.

Lists were made, vacuuming was done, and he even got around to cleaning the inside of his shower. It was when he was in the middle of making dinner, staring at the tiles on the wall and wondering if he should get a haircut before or after his family visit, that the fateful chime of his phone sounded.

"Yeah, I know a guy," she wrote.

Keith hummed with impatience. Couldn't she have just figured he wanted more details? 

"Great, can I have his number?" he typed back. Honestly, was it that hard to do? 

"No."

Apparently so.

After a bunch of typing back and forth, Keith was left with a sort of empty, nervous feeling that started in his feet, for some reason, and a date. Well, not a _date_ date, just an appointment kind of date. Ugh, even in his head it sounded stupid. A _meeting_ time. There. 

He would meet with this mystery person the next day in the park by Best Buy. It was where Pidge worked. She'd always been really into technology and picking apart computers. When they were younger, they would go find unfinished homes to sneak onto, just so she could peer into the walls and see how the wiring was laid out. That and play space pirates. Their echoes in those empty homes had always made everything feel more dramatic, exciting. They'd stomp down wooden staircases, crawl through open cabinetry, and have epic duels out on the windy, dirt-filled backyards, under dark clouds and the setting sun.

But the wiring always came first. She technically worked at the Geek Squad that was a part of the Best Buy, but it was only a temporary thing until she finished her degree. Keith could never quite remember what it was, but it sounded important. Then again, a master's degree in anything always sounded important. Maybe it was engineering -- but he could have sworn there were more words to it.

Regardless, he showed up the next day at three in the afternoon, holding a coffee in one hand and his phone in the other, at the park she'd told him about. He was early. Pidge, however, was not, as she wrote in her text message. 

"Sorry, running late for work. Can you meet him alone?"

Keith eyed the store from the wooden bench he'd just settled down on. If they sold binoculars there, they'd be some weird, hi-tech stuff. He narrowed his eyes just in case. If he didn't know Pidge any better, he'd have told himself it was a bit of a stretch, to think she'd set this all up only to spy on them from afar. 

He was halfway done writing, "How am I supposed to meet him when I don't know what he looks like," when someone stopped walking right in front of him.

The guy was wearing real snazzy boat shoes and straight-cut jeans that were cuffed at the ankle. Keith looked up to find a striped shirt under a blazer-style jacket and then the face that put it all together. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but it wasn't him.

"Hey there, you're Keith, right?" the guy said. He had a smile whiter than the snow they were expecting later that week. It was a smile Keith had seen before, but never directed at him.

"Uh, yeah," he replied.

"We take a class together, don't we? Your face looks familiar."

Keith nodded and gestured for him to sit down. "Modern Literature," he replied. 

He wasn't sure who he'd been expecting, but it sure wasn't the guy who held up his Lit class almost every single time during class discussions, talking about everything other than the actual topic. Keith wasn't much of a talker during those classes, he was more interested in his science classes, but this guy was the reason their class never got out on time. Five, ten minutes over their intended class period and the only thing on Keith's mind was murder. It had been his last class of the day -- he just wanted to go _home_.

"You're the guy who doesn't like poetry!" the guy exclaimed.

Keith was blanking on his name. Something with an L. Louis? Lars? La-- "You're Lance, right?" he asked, hoping that if any deity in the world existed, it would hear his prayers and tell him he was right.

"Yup!" he said and gave another one of those smiles. He was always chatting up the girls in the class -- he even went so far as to compliment the teacher on her hair, though Keith was pretty sure that was only to get an extension on a paper. The point was, why was he there? Pidge _had_ explained everything to him all proper, right?

"Did Pidge, uh, explain things?" Keith asked. He could feel his face heat up, but he was really hoping it was one of those times that _didn't_ show. "About what I was asking for?"

"Oh, right, yeah dude, no worries," Lance said. "You're looking for a pretend boyfriend, right?"

God, it felt so... _pitiful_ , hearing it said out loud like that. He wasn't starved for a relationship or anything, he just had something to prove.

"And you're fine with acting the part?" Keith asked. He hadn't even begun to start questioning if he, himself, was okay with acting the other part. With Lance. 

"Yeah, I mean, I figured we could talk about it some more," Lance replied with a shrug. 

It still didn't make any sense. Lance was okay with acting the part of a boyfriend _for another boy_. "Are you gay?" he blurted out. Well. That just happened.

Lance's eyebrows went way up. They looked a little too neat to be natural. "Bisexual, actually," he said. "But no worries, you set the rules!"

"Rules?" he said before it caught up to him. Oh. "Uh." He should have probably thought things out a little more. It sounded much worse than what he'd actually intended. "How about I explain the situation first?"

Lance nodded and Keith relaxed into a retelling of everything that had happened to land him in such hot water. It made him feel better, though, explaining everything. Made him seem a little less creepy, maybe. Hopefully.

In the end, Keith agreed to buy Lance Taco Bell every Wednesday of the next semester in return for everything playing a pretend boyfriend entailed. It felt a lot better than paying him with money (though he _had_ offered), but not by much. He definitely wondered why Lance was so easy-going about the whole deal, but he felt it kind of rude to ask.

Instead he went, "What about your own family? Don't they want you back for Christmas?"

Lance just scratched at his chin and said, "Don't worry about it. I don't have any plans."

Hm. It wasn't really an answer, but they weren't close enough to where Keith could just push on through with more persistent questioning. Why didn't he have plans? Was there family drama? Did he not celebrate Christmas? 

Not knowing what to say, Keith just nodded and fiddled with the plastic lid on his now-empty coffee cup. He kind of wished it were still at least a little bit of the way full -- he could always sip on it during the awkward pauses.

"Can I get your number?" Lance asked. "I might have some questions before the big day. Or night. Or, well, all of that."

Why was Keith's face getting all warm? There was absolutely no reason for his face to be heating up. It was December. The temperature was probably close to whatever zero meant. "Sure," he said and pulled out his phone. It was sleek silver thing that reacted a little too eager to his touch, encased in a striped red case.

Lance's was blue with a crack in one of the corners.

"Then I'll see you next week!" Lance said, bouncing off the bench. He laughed. "Taco Bell for a whole semester. _Sweet_."

But before Keith could reply with, "It's really not that big of a deal," because Taco Bell was cheap and also garbage, Lance was striding away on those ridiculously long legs of his. There was a little wave involved, but Keith chose to nod instead.

A whole week, huh? Yeah, an entire week to over-think things and regret all the decisions he'd ever made to land him in such a situation. Perfect.

~*~

The picking up of Lance McClain, as it was so typed in his phone, was a relatively easy thing. In theory. So Keith didn't understand why he was parked in the parking lot of one of the school dorms, slouched in his seat, listening to Billy Joel's "It's Still Rock and Roll to Me." It was a good song and one of the few stations that would stay good during the whole four hours it would take to drive to his mom's house. It would change, naturally, but it just sort of fizzed out and then it was just solid rock music.

But he didn't understand why he was sitting there, focusing on the lyrics, while Lance was doing whatever it was that was taking him so long to get downstairs and in his car. He'd texted him half an hour ago when he was leaving. He'd given him a whole week's notice.

A small voice in his head was scratching at the possibility that Lance changed his mind and this was his way of canceling on him. But he chose to ignore that voice in favor of Billy Joel's more upbeat tone and wonder what 'white wall tires' could mean. He would have pulled out his phone to look it up, but he was afraid that if he did that, he'd also send Lance a stream of unpleasant, nagging texts.

He really didn't want to be _that person_. He'd been that person in high school; he sure hoped he wasn't still.

When Lance finally did stroll out of the double doors to the building -- and that's exactly what he did, _stroll_ \-- he was carrying two large duffel bags and a backpack. It was four hours away, not four weeks. And they were only staying for three days. Three.

"Holy mother of god," Keith said. He was incredibly glad he was still alone in his car.

After popping the trunk and grabbing the keys from the ignition (he'd locked himself out once and never again. Never. Again.), he hopped out to help rearrange some of his stuff to make room.

"You read my text right...right?" Keith asked. "It's only three days."

"Three days can mean a lot," Lance replied, swinging his first bag in. The second went in much more gently. His backpack he put in the backseat. "I like to be prepared."

"For what, an invasion of zombies?" Keith muttered.

Unfortunately, Lance heard. "Hey man, you never know. Doesn't have to be zombies. _Could_ be aliens." He waggled his eyebrows.

Keith only rolled his eyes and got back in his seat. Lance was still pulling on his seatbelt by the time he pulled out of the parking spot. 

"Is that what took you so long?" Keith ventured to ask. Hey, he hadn't sent the long stream of texts, but he wasn't about to just let it slide.

"Yeah, I was making sure I grabbed everything," Lance replied. He was staring out the window at the passing buildings. "Like I said, gotta be prepared."

"It's a house in the mountains," Keith replied. "Doesn't exactly scream dangerous."

"Having never been there, I couldn't take my chances," Lance shot back.

Keith sighed, deep and heavy. Whatever, they were in the car, on their way -- that's all that mattered.

It grew quiet as Keith navigated their way through the town, but picked up again once they hit the highway. 

"Winter kind of bums me out," Lance said. "All the dead trees and frozen ground. I want summer! And the beach! Man, what I would give to go swimming just about now."

"Be my guest, there's a lake you can hike to near my mom's." It was probably frozen several inches thick, but why should that stop him?

"You know what I mean." Keith didn't have to be looking at him -- he could _hear_ the scowl in Lance's voice.

"Hm, then you picked the wrong state to be in," Keith replied. "We, my friend, are land-locked." 

"You can still go swimming, though," Lance pointed out. "And there's actually a lot more to do here than by a beach. But still, can't deny the wonderful feeling of stretching out and soaking up the sun."

Keith couldn't relate. He had skin that burned and blistered if he dared go out without sunscreen. He always had to carry around the smelly stuff, just in case it wore off. Higher elevations meant being closer to the flaming orb in the sky that turned his skin to a peeling, burning mess.

"Anyways, I've got a question," Lance said. "What are we going to tell your mom when we get there?"

Keith switched lanes -- there was a left lane for a reason, people. "What do you mean?" 

"You know, if she asks us how we met," Lance said. "Just a basic story."

It was a question Keith had been thinking about the entire week. He just wasn't good with story-making. Meeting in a bar sounded kind of seedy, but would his mom believe something too picturesque? 

"How about our friends hooked us up?" Keith offered. It was pretty much the truth. 

"That's so boring!" Lance said, sitting up a little straighter. "Couldn't I have picked you up somewhere? Like, where do you work?"

"A Call Center."

"Oh. Never mind. I thought if you worked in a restaurant, I could have been enamored or something and just routinely had dinner every time you had a shift," Lance said.

"Kind of stalker-y," Keith pointed out.

"Not if you found it endearing!"

"But I don't."

"You could _pretend_. That's the whole point of this operation," Lance said, huffing. He slid down in his seat. 

Keith rolled his eyes. He didn't understand what was so important about what should be a simple story. But Lance was doing him a huge favor, even if badly made fake Mexican food was part of the payment plan. "We...met at school," Keith said. "Freshmen orientation. But we didn't start dating right away, we just started out as friends."

He could feel Lance's eyes on him, but he remained focused on the road. Cars were slowing down, so either a cop was up front or they were hitting some traffic. He glanced down at the speedometer; it was legal.

"Not bad," Lance finally said. "Can I still be the one who asked you out?"

That time, Keith looked over. "Uh, sure?" he said.

Another glance at Lance -- he looked a little pleased, a small smile curled up on his face. It reminded Keith of a cat an old neighbor had owned; was a tawny brown, fluffy thing with big gold eyes and dark paws. He'd seen it in the window every time he left to go catch the bus for school.

Traffic picked up again and the radio started switching about an hour into their ride. Dark trees rolled by, though not very tall or thick. The road narrowed into two lanes, each in different directions. The curves around the mountainsides always used to make his dad nervous and they always knew when it got bad because their car would slow to a crawl.

"I've got another question," Lance said all of a sudden. He reached out to lower the volume.

"Shoot."

But Lance fidgeted with his fingers a bit before responding. "How far exactly do we go to prove we're in a relationship?" he asked. "Like, what's appropriate? Do we hug? Kiss?"

"Uh," Keith said. He kind of wished they'd discussed it earlier, when he wasn't driving past great big cliffs and around tight turns. "I'm down for whatever you are. I guess."

"Cool," Lance replied. "By the way, can we stop by somewhere eventually? I could kill for a coffee or some water."

Somewhere. Right.

"You couldn't have asked when we were driving past all those gas stations?" Keith asked.

"I wasn't thirsty then."

"I swear to god," Keith grumbled. 

"Hey man, I didn't say right now. I just said it for when you, you know, see a good spot," Lance said. "Eventually."

Was he going to strangle him? Probably not. But throwing him off the mountain _did_ seem rather tempting. If they weren't stuck behind a minivan that had absolutely no business being there, he might have actually done it. 

Instead, he turned the music up again and continued driving to safer, less precipitous places. If he'd been driving with an actual boyfriend, maybe he wouldn't be having such a hollow, sour feeling in his stomach. Maybe he wouldn't be kicking his own ass for not making up an excuse to not go. A lot of maybes roamed around in his head, but nothing to make them settle, no tiny, wriggling bit of hope for a good time.

"There!"

Keith nearly flew out of his seat. " _Jesus_ ," he hissed.

"There's a stop coming up!" Lance said, pointing out his window at a sign that passed by.

"Any reason to shout it?" Keith asked. Luckily, he'd stayed in his lane. There was _only_ a semi-truck in the other one. His heart was pounding and he'd definitely jerked the wheel. "Have you never ridden in a car before? _Don't scare the driver. He is responsible for your safety_."

"Sorry," Lance said, but Keith didn't believe an ounce of it. "But there's a gas station coming up with a McDonalds and I think a Subway."

"You hungry?" Keith asked. 

"A little, but you said we'd be eating dinner at your mom's," Lance replied. "But I'm thirsty and these legs of mine could use some stretching."

Keith tried not to look at those legs of his. 

As he was turning into the area where the buildings sat, all nestled together, he asked, "So what'll it be?"

"Hm, well," Lance said. "Let's try out the gas station first and if their drinks are expensive, we'll go through the drive-thru at McDonalds. Nothing beats that dollar menu."

Keith wanted to ask, _then why bother with the gas station at all?_ He breathed in, breathed out. Whatever, Lance had his reasons. Keith didn't need to understand or ask about them.

He pulled the car into the parking lot, shifted into park, and went to unbuckle. Only he didn't get that far because suddenly Lance grabbed his face and kissed him. Not fully on the mouth, but enough.

"What the hell?!" Keith sputtered, pulling back. His face was on fire. His face was on fire and he didn't care, but he _did_ , and he couldn't help it, but he wished he could.

"Yup, thought so," Lance replied. 

For once, Keith couldn't form a response fast enough.

"We should practice kissing so _that_ doesn't happen in front of your mom," Lance said. 

"Okay, first off -- you should have just said that before you went all, all... And secondly, I probably wouldn't react that way if you'd _warned me about it_ ," Keith said. Both points were basically the same thing, but his brain was still a little fried. "Who just goes around kissing people like that?"

Lance scratched at his chin, looking a little sheepish. His shoulders tucked in a bit, like he wanted to make himself smaller. "Sorry," he said. It was a believable apology, that time. Hit all the right kinds of apologetic tones.

Keith only nodded, frowning out the windshield at the brown bricks that made up the gas station. He kind of wished real life had a little angel and devil to talk to on each shoulder. Maybe not the devil, he did plenty of things he regretted enough on his own, but the angel might've helped. At the very least, it could have told him if it was bad to feel kind of excited about kissing the boy sitting in his car. At the thought of more kissing. 

Then again, most Bible-pushers said being gay was a sin, so maybe the angel would just berate him for that.

"Keith?"

He jerked back into their world. "Right," he said. "Practice. Um. Sure, but it'll probably be weird."

And it was weird. But also nice. It was a lot nicer when Lance actually kissed him full on the mouth, all soft and careful. And then he was gone again.

"Could you open your mouth a little?" Lance asked.

Keith's head was either still stuck a few seconds in the past or Lance hadn't waited for a response. The second kiss was even weirder, what with Lance's tongue sort of swiping past Keith's lips, but not full on pushing through like he'd seen in movies. He was kind of glad for that. French kissing always looked so uncomfortable.

"Not bad," Lance said the next time he pulled away. A half smile sort of snuck up on his face, and only later would Keith realize it was a sort of teasing expression. "You're a little stiff, but I don't think we'll have a problem convincing your mom we're in _love_." He ended with the last word in a sugar-coated, sing-song tone and a waggle of his eyebrows.

Once they'd stretched out a bit, stocked up on drinks and snacks, they were back on the road. Keith's mind, which had been left behind, came racing back when they got stuck behind an SUV with a trailer hitched to the back of it. He slowed down a bit, checked the lines and the other lane, switched, and then drove his foot into the gas pedal.

"Holy Tostitos, Batman," Lance hissed, holding onto the handle above the door.

Keith ignored him in favor of getting back in their lane, before the truck heading their way made it to the same spot they were. 

"Could you slow down? Maybe?"

"Why?"

"Because I want to live? I've been wondering, do you always drive this fast?" Lance asked. He hadn't loosened his grip on the handle.

"It's not that fast."

"Dude, you are going like, ten or twenty over the speed limit, I am sure of it," Lance insisted.

The rolling of his eyes did not go unnoticed.

"Don't be blaming me if you get pulled over by a cop. Or we hit a patch of ice and go spiraling off road, only to hit a tree and _die_. Won't be my fault when you get blisters on your ass for landing yourself in hell because you _killed lil' ol' me_ and--"

"Oh my god, shut _up_!" Keith shouted and added pressure to the brake pedal. "We aren't going to die! My driving skills are _great_ \-- better than great! Haven't had an accident in my entire driving career."

"Don't go jinxing yourself now."

"I am going to throw you out the car."

"Going 90 miles an hour?"

"Yes," Keith said and traded a grin with his obnoxious fake boyfriend.


	2. Chapter 2

Like most driveways in the mountains, the one to his mom's house was long and difficult to see from the road. The road was only marked by the mailbox, where snow had piled up in the shadows of the pine and aspen trees. The wheels of the car crunched against the gritty terrain as they rolled up to the house, where more patches of snow were sprinkled. In the summer, it wasn't too different. More green, maybe, and certainly less snow. But there wasn't a huge plant variety and the pines stayed the same color year round.

The house itself wasn't too impressive to look at -- it was made primarily out of stone because, as his mom had said, "it'll be a heck of a lot harder to burn through in case of fire." And there were fires. Wildfires, though not usually in that area. They were getting worse with every passing year because of the way beetles were sucking the trees dry. He often wondered how long it would be until everything burned down.

When they pulled up to the garage, a wreath hung out on the door with pine cones and fake red berries. Or maybe they were real and Keith always just thought they were fake. The truck he parked next to was familiar.

"Huh," he said. It felt too quiet, with the car off. "I wasn't expecting my dad to be here."

"Why wouldn't he be?" Lance asked.

Keith opened his door. "Because they're divorced."

Their walk to the door was a quiet one, where the only sound made was the crunch of their shoes on the reddish-brown soil. He rang a couple times, to let her know it was him even so she was already expecting him and nobody in their right mind would trek all the way up that driveway for a little ding-dong-ditch. He glanced over at Lance, who gave him a little smile back; he found comfort in knowing he wasn't the only one nervous.

The door swung open and there stood his mother, tiny and slow to wrinkle as always; the silver in her hair was the only real indication of her real age. "There he is! C'mon in!"

Stepping in, they were hit with a wave of warmth. The entry opened up to a small living area packed with well-stuffed couches and a fireplace already crackling with use. A quilt was thrown over the back of one of the sofas, not quite so evenly folded.

"Was it a long drive?" she asked. He knew she meant the traffic, but he didn't want to talk about that.

"Mom, this is Lance," he said. 

The man in question stepped forward and held out a hand, smiling. Keith sure hoped that smile would dazzle his mom as much as it dazzled him. "Nice to meet you, ma'am."

Her return smile was a little awkward, a little pinched, but she took his hand in both of hers anyways. "A pleasure to meet you," she said. "You guys can just dump your things here for now." She smiled again before moving back to what Keith guessed was the kitchen; the smells of something delicious was wafting through the air. He was guessing chicken.

"I saw dad's truck outside," he called out as he set his bags down. 

"He's outside," his mom called back.

"You know," Lance said, looking around, "I'm kind of disappointed there's not a big, stuffed bear anywhere. This place could totally pull it off."

Keith rolled his eyes and walked after his mom. It was kind of true -- her house felt much more like a cabin than a regular house, with all the wood paneling and beams along the ceiling. She'd gotten it after the divorce, as she'd always wanted to live as far away from people as possible. Keith could relate; having to interact with or be surrounded by so many in a city sounded suffocating. The town he went to college in was big enough already.

The kitchen opened out to the family room, which was much more used than the living room. The cabinets were all dark wood types, but Keith wouldn't be able to name just what kind of wood they were. They were dark brown and looked good. What else was there to say? 

His mom was stirring something on the stove, where three other pots were sitting with glass lids on, condensation building up inside. 

"What's for dinner?" he asked.

"What do you think it is?" she replied, a little half smile appearing.

"If it is what I think it is, then we're eating really good tonight."

She gave him a mock-scandalized look. "And we don't eat good the other times I cook?" she asked.

" _Mom_ ," he replied, grinning. "You know what I mean."

With her head tilted up, as if offended, she said, "Yeah, yeah. Go set the table with your friend."

"Boyfriend," he corrected.

She nodded. "Get going."

Setting the table mostly involved handing things to Lance, who didn't know where anything was in the kitchen, and he'd put them on the table. When finished, they headed out to the backyard, where his dad was standing under the trees near the shed, having a smoke.

"Finally made it up here, huh?" his dad said, grinning. He had a deep, Texan accent and a scar across one of his eyebrows. As a kid, Keith had always asked about it. It happened when his dad was young, but the story kept changing, so he suspected the real one was a lot less glamorous.

"Took a little longer this time," Keith replied.

"Longer?" Lance asked. "He was driving like we had to outrun a natural disaster!"

His dad chuckled and ground his cigarette butt into the dirt with his boot. Then he extended a hand. "I don't think we've met," he said. 

"I'm Lance."

"My boyfriend," Keith said.

"Mm, your mom said something about that," he said. The way he smiled, Keith knew exactly what kind of conversation they'd had before their arrival. "Nice to finally meet you."

"The feeling's mutual, sir," Lance said. 

His dad chuckled again. "No need to call me sir," he said. "You go to the same school?"

Lance nodded. "Studying to be a marine biologist," he replied, standing a little straighter.

Huh. Keith hadn't known that. He felt a little guilty for not asking earlier -- it felt like one of those questions one _should_ ask when meeting someone. A standard question.

His dad let out a low whistle. "That's something," he said. "Especially here. There's not exactly an ocean nearby."

"They have a decent under-grad program at our school, but for grad school, I plan on going to another college. Maybe somewhere in California," he replied and shrugged. "Whichever school accepts me, really." 

Keith really should have asked him those questions in the car or anytime during the previous week.

There was a lapse in conversation, one in which his dad could have asked what would become of them if Lance moved so far away, but he didn't, for which Keith was grateful. What would he do if Lance moved away? Nothing. They weren't actually dating, so no hurt or sad feelings. No talks of breaking up or moving with him. 

In a change of topic, his dad suddenly grinned and reached out to ruffle Keith's hair. "I'm so glad you got that haircut," he said. Then to Lance he went, "Did you know this kid used to have a mullet? All the way until he was finished with high school."

" _Dad_." He swatted his hand away.

But, naturally, Lance's face had already lit up. "A _mullet_ ," he asked. "Oh please tell me there are pictures."

"Of course there are," his dad beamed and pulled out his phone.

"You've got to be kidding me," Keith muttered, dragging a hand across his face. "You had one too!"

"Did not," his dad replied, swiping his thumb across the screen. "My hair was just shaggy. And here, found one from his graduation."

Keith didn't even bother looking at what picture his dad showed Lance. It didn't matter. Any picture of his mullet-wearing days was going to be that sort of long-lasting, stomach-burning kind of embarrassment.

"And nobody dragged you to a salon?" Lance asked. "Oh man, these are great."

"I can send them to you if you'd like."

" _Dad_ ," Keith said for the second time in only a few minutes. If things kept going the way they were, his fake boyfriend and dad were going to become best friends. It would get awkward when they fake broke up.

His dad and Lance shared a look that didn't put any of Keith's worries to rest.

"Anyways," Keith said, "I think we should go back inside."

"You're right," his dad said. "Not good to keep your mom waiting."

~*~

Dinner was full of the questions Lance and Keith had prepared for. His mom asked the main questions while his dad did the follow-ups. It felt more natural with his dad, though, like he really wanted to know the little things; how college was going, if they'd seen the latest Spider-Man movie, why Lance's favorite color was blue. His mom wasn't as stiff as Keith had expected, but she wasn't exactly her warmest.

His dad insisted he do the dishes while the rest of them figured out what game to play.

"It's something we've always done," Keith explained. "After dinner, we usually play cards or a board game or sometimes a puzzle."

"Go show him where they are," his mom said, pouring the rest of the gravy into Tupperware. She looked at Lance, who was looking a little more excited than Keith would've thought. "And if you need to know where anything else is or if you need anything, just ask Keith." 

"Right-o." There was a little salute.

"You're in a good mood," Keith said as he walked over to the basement door. It was a finished basement, but the cold hit him in much the same way the warmth did when they first entered the house.

"Hm? Well, yeah, it's been fun," Lance replied, following him down the stairs. "I can't remember the last time I played a board game. I don't actually own any, you know."

"I guess being in college makes you think you're too old for stuff like that, huh?" Keith said.

Lance didn't reply.

After a small debate between Life and Monopoly (Keith only gave in because he remembered the way his mom played Monopoly -- fast and relentless), they returned to the table. Both of his parents were already sitting and there was something in the air that felt like Serious Talk.

"Good game," his dad noted.

Whatever they'd been talking about before (although Keith could probably guess) was definitely not going to be said in front of them, so they set up the board and began to play. Lance was the only one to start with a career rather than college and, of course, his car was blue. Keith's was red, his dad's was orange, and his mom chose white.

When Keith's car made it to the required marriage block, he immediately put another blue figure in the passenger's seat.

"You're _cheating_?" Lance asked.

Keith tried figuring out what he meant. The game was simple -- you spin the wheel and you move forward. How was he cheating? "What?"

"With Mr. Plastic Face over there!" Lance accused, pointing to the would-be spouse in the car. "You're cheating on me!"

Keith rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah?" he replied. "What about that little pink figure you've got in _your_ car?" Lance was bi, so it made sense, but it still left Keith with a funny feeling in his stomach.

Without missing a beat, Lance said, "Well, _obviously_ this marriage is a sham! We need to appeal to the norms of society to live in this cardboard constructed reality. She's got a girlfriend on the side. I know about it and it's okay."

He couldn't help but smile at that. Lance marrying a girl so she could keep up appearances -- it felt like something he would do. 

"Now I've a question," Keith said. The smile still hadn't faded. "Why didn't it occur to you that maybe the other guy in my car was you?" His face was heating up and he knew it was and why it was, but he was determined to show his mom what this fake relationship meant.

Lance's slack expression clearly showed he hadn't expected Keith to be so sappy, but it immediately picked up again. "Dawwwww, _BABE!_ " He leaned in and kissed him good and long. 

How his parents reacted, Keith couldn't say. His heart was a little too busy pumping too much blood and making him feel a little too...happy? He didn't want to use the word, especially in relation to what just happened, but it did make the rest of the game a little brighter, more spirited. He laughed a little easier at his dad's bad jokes. 

After they'd played another round, snacking on some almond cookies his mom had made the day before, his dad took a look at his watch while yawning. "I hate to be the guy who says it, but I think it's about that time," he said.

Keith stretched his arms out, then his back. Sitting for so long -- he couldn't wait to lay down. "I think you may have a point," he said. Then something occurred to him. "Hey, where's Lance going to sleep?" There were only two guest bedrooms in his mom's house: one that was really mostly his and the other that really _was_ used for guests. But unless his parents were getting back together, which wouldn't ever happen for several reasons he didn't want to carefully list out, then it was obvious who would be using the spare.

"He can sleep in your room," his mom replied, voice and expression cool. "The bed fits two."

Keith's face must have betrayed something, because his mom continued.

"Keith, we're both adults here. Even if I had a separate room for him to sleep in, what would be the point?" She made an expression that made Keith think something he really didn't want to think. That his mom believed they were sleeping together? What wild thought train had _that_ been? 

"Okay," he said, though the word felt a little thick in his throat; a mouthful to say when it really wasn't much to say at all.

Even Lance looked a little tense. 

They grabbed their things from the front and made their way to the room Keith always used. The walls in the hallway were full of pictures of him growing up and his grandparents, of his mom's siblings. The only ones of his dad were when the whole family got together for a picture, either at a barbeque or somebody's christening. 

His room was large enough for a queen-sized bed, desk, dresser, and a full-length mirror. Everything was done up in red and brown tones -- red because it was his favorite. Brown because...well, he guessed his mom just thought they went well together. There were always too many pillows on the bed and spare blankets in the dresser. The closet was mostly empty, except for a couple of labeled boxes from his childhood and an extra jacket.

As soon as the door was closed and their bags hit the ground, Keith began apologizing. "I'm so sorry, I didn't think this would actually happen," he said."Usually there's another bedroom free and I didn't know my dad was coming here, otherwise I would have just said I couldn't go."

"Dude," Lance said. "Chill. We got this. It's really not that big of a deal. Just think of it like a sleepover."

Keith may have nodded, but he didn't understand how Lance was being so calm. They'd never discussed the possibility of sharing a bed. It felt far too personal much too fast and Keith couldn't help but feel responsible for it. 

"Now, you may want to use the bathroom first," Lance said as he crouched down to one of his bags. "I'm gonna need some time."

Keith was halfway through nodding again when what Lance had said caught up with him. With some curiosity, he watched Lance unzip the first bag. All he saw were bottles and creams. The bag was the size of a small vacuum cleaner. He politely went about his own business and left Lance to organize or do whatever he was about to do with all of...that.

And it turned out to be a good thing to do as Lance had suggested; he took over an hour in the bathroom and Keith wasn't quite sure he wanted to know what it all entailed. 

Keith had pulled out his computer and was in the middle of watching a dog howl along to sirens on Facebook when Lance reemerged. Wearing a pair of striped blue pajama bottoms and a grey t-shirt, he brought with him the smell of lavender and, quite possibly, vanilla. Or maybe honeysuckle, though to be honest, Keith wasn't altogether sure what honeysuckle really smelled like.

"Is the bathroom safe to use?" Keith asked.

Lance's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?" he asked, but his tone held enough suspicion that he probably already knew what Keith meant.

"If I go in there, will I come out smelling like you from the residual fumes?" Keith probed.

"Hey man, at least I smell good."

"I'm going to sleep, I don't need to smell good."

"I didn't say you needed to," Lance replied.

"But you implied it," Keith said, rolling his eyes.

He felt the dip in the mattress when Lance got in bed. The smell was even stronger, but it wasn't altogether unpleasant. And it didn't help his heart any when Lance leaned over to look at what he was doing.

"Hey, can you look me up?" he asked. "Lance McClain. Two c's."

Did he not know what privacy meant? He typed it in anyways, but _still_.

Lance's picture was of him by some water, wearing a pair of large sunglasses with plastic frames. His cover photo was of a sunset against the ocean, colors smudging into each other and setting everything aglow. 

"And now?" Keith asked.

"Now click that button," Lance said and pointed to the "add friend" option. 

Keith gave him a look.

"What?" Lance said, though a smile crept up, even when he tried pushing it down. "I didn't think you'd do it on your own and I wasn't going to remember to remind you."

"Are we really friends, though?" Keith asked.

"Says the guy who is sharing a bed with me."

Keith made a face and tilted his head, as if to go, "Yeah, well, I _guess_ ," and clicked the button.

"Good, good," Lance said and nestled himself down on his side of the bed. 

Keith shook his head and went back to the front page. What he really wanted to do was go snooping through Lance's Facebook and see all there was to see, but he couldn't exactly do that when the guy in question was laying right next to him. Maybe when he was in the bathroom again, doing his weird nighttime routine. Did he do that in the morning too? Was that why he took so long getting to the car? 

He wanted to shake his head again. 

"Oh right, that's what I wanted to do," he muttered and typed a name into the search bar.

"What?" Lance asked.

"Look up my dad's girlfriend," he replied. "I'm surprised he's not with her, to be honest. He usually is." He'd forgotten to ask his dad when they were alone and he didn't want to ask in front of his mom. It wasn't like she had any angry feelings about the divorce, she wasn't injured by it, but Keith didn't want to make her sad. 

Their divorce had been a mutual thing; they'd both fallen out of love and wanted the other to be happier. He'd seen the way they'd awkwardly hug or kiss each other, like it was something to remember, to schedule, otherwise they wouldn't have done it at all. He also remembered the times when it wasn't so cold, when they'd gush over antique knives and swords in faraway cities, during vacations or road trips. 

Keith's decision to stay with his dad was purely based on location and what he wanted to do with his life, which his mom said was smart. The only things she demanded were plenty of phone calls and regular visits, because she "ain't that far away." 

From the snippets he read and the family pictures she'd posted, Keith figured his dad's girlfriend went to visit her own family in Kentucky because her dad was sick. A flush of guilt flew through him for thinking it was possible she'd been cheating or doing something otherwise suspicious. But it was for the sake of his dad, he reasoned. 

"Everything okay?" Lance asked. His question was followed by a yawn covered partly by his hand. "Find what you were looking for?"

"Yeah," Keith replied, eyes still stuck to the screen. "She's just busy with her own family."

"Mm," Lance said. His voice sounded a touch fainter. "Must be nice."

Keith didn't mention the sick father. Instead, he just nodded and went back to his news feed. 

"Now if you're done with that, my _darling_ dear," Lance said, though the only word he didn't mumble or slur was 'darling,' "I would like to sleep."

"You're really getting a kick out of this relationship thing, huh."

Lance grinned into his pillow. "Oh you have no idea. Now hurry! Lights out!"

"I'm going!"

"Not fast enough!"

Keith snapped his laptop shut, balanced it on the nightstand, and burrowed down in the blankets, but the lamp next to Lance was out before that. He could have easily kicked Lance for it. The thoughts were there, vengeful and sweet, but he didn't. Instead, he stared up into the darkness until he could start seeing shapes, outlines. Somewhere in the house, the furnace kicked up again; the humming noise was always kind of soothing, even when it wasn't night.

Lance was breathing somewhere to Keith's right, though he couldn't tell if he'd fallen asleep already. And if he had, _how_? Maybe Lance was just an easy sleeper or he was used to sleeping around other people. He seemed popular -- he'd probably been the same growing up and had been invited to ALL the sleepovers. 

But sleepovers, after all the fun and excitement wore down, were awkward -- Keith could never sleep until everyone else was passed out and yet he was always the first one up. Maybe he didn't want to be caught sleeping by anyone and his body was just wired to respond to that. Maybe deep down he just figured if he woke up sooner, he could go home just as fast. He didn't know.

It felt like hours passed before he finally slipped into the lull before sleep, where he slowly sank further and further into a warm and cozy dream about deer and snow.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYBODY!!

It was warm. That was the first wriggle of thought when he woke up, but Keith hadn't yet opened his eyes. Warmth and comfort. The blankets were thick and perfect and he dreaded the thought of having to throw them off, to feel the sting of cold air. He curled up a little tighter. Something warm was pressed up against his back and he figured it was a folded piece of blanket, rolled up or something to feel so compact and sturdy.

And then he blinked his eyes open and remembered. He tried looking over his shoulder, but all he saw was what looked like another shoulder. From what he could make out, his back was pressed up against Lance's, which...

Okay, he wasn't going to lie, not to himself. That was stupid. It felt _nice_. A level of comfort that went further than just the warm sleepiness of early mornings. 

And of course, the moment he decided to close his eyes again and get as much out of that feeling as he could, Lance stretched out. Keith heard the fabric of the pillow rustle as he lifted his head to look around. Then he must have leaned forward because Keith's back was hit with a shock of cold so sudden, he yanked at the blankets.

"Oh, sorry," Lance said, leaning back. "Wanted to look at the time."

The sun was peeking between all the slats and cracks in the wooden blinds, giving the room a fuzzy dark light. He could see most everything, but not the details.

"And? What time is it?" he asked, suddenly conscious of how his voice sounded -- kind of croaky. But so did Lance's, so maybe it didn't matter.

"Almost nine-thirty," he replied through a yawn. "If I wasn't smelling bacon right now, I could honestly keep sleeping."

He was right -- his mom was probably making breakfast, which was something she always did when he was visiting. It was also Christmas Eve, so maybe the reason was somewhere in there, too.

Lance said he'd be down in a bit, so Keith trudged down the stairs alone, still thinking about his warm bed. He'd gotten to the bottom of the staircase when the front door opened, letting in a gust of frosty air.

"Hey there, look who's up," his dad said, pulling in a pine tree bundled up in netting. "When you and Lance are done with breakfast, we're going to decorate this like we've never decorated anything in our entire lives."

"So...really, really badly?" Keith said.

His dad laughed and closed the door.

When Lance had said 'a bit,' he really should have said, 'about a half hour.' Keith was already working through his second plate of pancakes when the guy in question walked down, looking very much _not_ like how he'd woken up. He strolled over with a smile and pressed a kiss to Keith's temple like he did it every morning.

"If you don't like the syrup here, there's more in the fridge," his mom said, scooping another batch out of the pan and onto a plate. 

Lance opted for blueberry, Keith noticed, without much surprise. 

After their dishes were cleaned up and the dishwasher was humming away, Keith's mom ushered them into the family room, where his dad had put up the tree. He'd already strung up the lights, which was always the very first thing to do when decorating a tree, as he'd once explained to Keith a long time ago.

"I brought up the boxes with decorations while you two were still sleeping," she explained. "So let's have at it. Everyone grab a box."

Keith opened the one closest to him and found bulbs in all their original packaging staring up at him. If his mom played video games, she'd be a queen at Tetris. He genuinely hoped he wasn't going to be the one to have to put them away.

"So Lance, how is Christmas like at your place?" his dad asked, looping a bulb on a golden hook. There was a bag full of them on the table. 

"Um, well, it's usually very loud," Lance replied. There was something about his voice that felt off, like he was nervous or uncertain. It made Keith look up. "Growing up, there was always a lot of people around and we never had a real tree, like this. The real thing looks much nicer, by the way."

His dad chuckled. "The plastic ones are too thin," he said. "You can see right through 'em. I've always preferred the real ones myself."

Lance smiled in return. "These ornaments are really pretty!" he said and Keith had the feeling it was maybe a deliberate change in topic. "And there are so many of them! Are we going to fit them all on the tree?"

"We sure as hell are going to try," Keith replied. Stuff the tree with ornaments -- weigh the branches down with seemingly weightless glass bulbs. Yes. 

The end result was a tree so full of so many different styles and colored bulbs that, when the lights were turned on, it sparkled and twinkled like the way stars reflect off a lake. It filled Keith with a feeling he couldn't really name: just warm, peaceful, with a tinge of excitement. Kind of like eating those chocolate covered gingerbread cookies that had a layer of jelly hidden somewhere inside.

"I want to go take some pictures," his mom announced.

"I'm not dressed," Keith protested.

"Not of _you_ ," she replied. "The tree!"

Lance let out a short, loud laugh. 

Keith glared.

"You can still get dressed, though," his dad said. "We need to pick up a few things at the supermarket."

"On Christmas Eve?" Keith asked, still giving Lance the lingering remains of his glare.

Lance didn't try to look even a little bit guilty -- he poked a bit of his tongue out at him.

"It's Wal-Mart -- they're open forever," his dad replied. "Well, most of the time, anyways. Poor guys. Anyways, get your butt moving. The sooner we get there, the sooner we get back, the sooner I can make my eggnog."

And that's how, half an hour later, the three of them were tucked into his dad's truck. He didn't know if it was because he was the shortest or what, but he was the sucker who got to sit in the middle seat, between driver and passenger. He also would have been done earlier if Lance hadn't insisted on blow-drying Keith's hair.

"I'm not letting you freeze off your hair," he'd said. "It's gonna make it look like shit later on. And you could probably catch a cold and die, I dunno, I'm not a doctor. But definitely the thing with it looking like shit!"

Soon they were wandering the aisles of Wal-Mart, chucking bags of chips into the cart and trying to stay out of the way from those last-minute shoppers, the ones with pinched, tense expressions who huffed a lot.

"Do you like eggnog, Lance?" his dad asked as he set a bag of marshmallows in, next to a pack of minty candy canes. Keith suspected they were going to be used with hot chocolate.

"I've only ever had the store-bought kind," Lance replied.

"And?"

"It was pretty good."

"Watch out, he's going to tell you you've never had eggnog until you've had _his_ ," Keith said.

His dad gave him a look. "It's true, though," he said. "Mine is the best. Even your grandma said it and she's impossible to please."

Keith wanted to point out that his grandma loved anything with booze in it, but his dad was proud of his eggnog and it _was_ good. 

They continued winding their way down the aisles, talking about school and work and friends. The way his dad talked to Lance, like he was already part of the family -- it gave him a sour feeling in his gut. It was guilt, he knew it was guilt. His dad was being so nice and he'd always been understanding. It felt so wrong to trick him like that, to lie. Would he be mad if Keith told him why he'd done it, if he confessed?

Another feeling, lurking under all that sour guilt, was something a little softer. Having Lance shoot him smiles, the way he'd hit Keith's shoulder in a joke, or even the goofy eyebrow waggling he'd do even when what he was talking about wasn't suggestive -- all that combined with spending time with one of the most important people in Keith's life. It was _nice_. It felt real and knowing it wasn't made him want to kick something.

~*~

The eggnog was finished before dinner started, but Keith's mom swore they would all wake up in the snow if they so much as dared look at it before sitting down to eat the meal she'd spent so long preparing. It was chicken, covered in something that tasted like rosemary, but was definitely more than just rosemary. Homemade brown gravy had mushrooms and onions poking through the surface. Buttery mashed potatoes were exactly how Keith always remembered them -- small chunks of potato left un-mashed, but so, so soft. Then there were the green beans, because no meal could go without vegetables, but they were swimming in their own creamy white sauce and Keith knew he would never figure out how they were made without asking.

Even when he was finished with college, Keith didn't think he could ever cook like his mom. He wasn't sure he should even try.

"So what's Keith like when he's at school?" his dad asked. He happened to ask at the exact moment Keith was shoveling a piece of chicken in his mouth. Coincidence? He thought not.

Did Lance even know? Could he have picked anything up from their brief time together?

But Keith didn't have anything to worry about, because Lance just said, "Not too much different from how he always is."

What an easy save. Had anybody asked Keith, he'd have froze.

His dad laughed. "He's always been a quiet kid," he said.

His mom scoffed. "When nobody bothers him," she said.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Keith asked, having finally finished chewing the chicken.

"See?" his mom replied, giving a grin he'd most certainly inherited. "So long as nobody bothers him, he's quiet and he does his own work. But the moment you mention his name or get in his way, he erupts."

"Like a volcano," his dad added with a little half smirk, half smile.

One time. _One time_ had he said he wanted to live in a volcano and his parents still hadn't gotten over it. It had been high school and he'd gotten his wisdom teeth removed. The anesthesia had been strong. It was time to _let it go_.

"Do you know how many times I had to go down to the school because he'd gotten in a fight?" she asked.

Lance shook his head.

"Me neither," she replied. "I lost count."

Lance looked over at Keith with raised eyebrows.

Keith shrugged.

"How was school for you?" his dad asked. "I hope it wasn't full of fighting."

"Oh no," Lance replied. "I liked school and got along with mostly everyone. It was fun. Of course, that doesn't mean I was a model student or anything."

Did he skip? He looked like the kind of guy who would skip class with his friends.

"And you saw...what exactly in Keith?" his dad asked.

"Hey!"

Lance laughed and it lit up his face -- one of his more natural smiles. "He's cute! And his looks aren't too bad either," he teased.

" _Anyways_ ," Keith said, though he didn't really have anything to say. He just wanted to change the topic. He could feel the tips of his ears beginning to burn.

Thankfully, Lance took the hint. "I was always pretty loud, disrupting class," he continued. "You know how they say you should think before you act? Yeah, that wasn't me."

Keith could see it -- Lance being the one who always had something to say, something to make the class laugh and maybe also the teacher. Or just make them mad. He would be the one to stay after school to get his phone back or get told that he should be focusing on the lesson and not on building an army out of pencils and erasers. It kind of still showed, now that he was older. In the class they'd shared, Lance _did_ always have something to say. Unfortunately, the teacher had a hard time figuring out how to guide the conversation back to the intended topic.

With dinner coming to an end, Lance asked if there would be more board games.

"Now we watch movies and drink ourselves silly with eggnog," Keith explained.

"And stuff ourselves with cookies," his dad said.

"That _I_ made," his mom pointed out, staring at Keith with one of those disappointed looks where he couldn't ever figure out if his mom was teasing or not. Maybe both.

"But first, you come with me," Keith said and pulled Lance out of his chair.

"Uh," Lance said and pulled himself out of Keith's grip. "Thanks for cooking! It was amazing!"

Of course he had to say something like that. Of course. 

His mom's eyebrows rose like she'd been just been verbally assaulted, but she ended up saying, "Holy hell, someone in this house has manners."

_Of course._ Now anything he said would sound cheap, but if he didn't, it would be like he wasn't also thankful for his mother's cooking. "Thanks for the meal," Keith replied, feeling lame.

"Yeah, yeah," his mom said, though a little smile of hers made him think she hadn't taken it quite as seriously as Keith.

After Keith had successfully dragged Lance upstairs, he made him stand around while he dug into one of his bags.

"What's happening right now?" Lance asked.

"I need you to sign something," Keith replied. He found the card and held it up for Lance to take. "And then you can help me bring presents downstairs."

"Isn't that tomorrow?" Lance asked, opening the card. Inside he'd find a hastily scribbled paragraph on how much Keith appreciated his mom. "Being Christmas day and all."

"Yeah, but we're putting the presents under the tree tonight," Keith replied and then handed him another card to sign, this time for his dad. "We bought the presents for my parents together. Same with the cards. Okay?"

"Sure," Lance said, reading the other card. "You've got crappy handwriting."

"And?" Keith said. "You can still read it, right?"

Lance made a face and tilted his head. " _Eh._ "

Keith threw a pillow at him.

Once Keith had everything pulled out on the floor, he looked at it and then at Lance. There were only a couple presents -- a small collection of things for both his parents, so it would only take them one trip -- but Lance was still sitting on the carpeted floor, staring at them like they were a bundle of snakes and his one job was to touch them without getting bit.

"Hey, what's up?" Keith asked. Had they been in an actual relationship, maybe it would have been okay to put his hand on his arm or something. He swatted that thought away.

"I didn't bring presents."

Keith relaxed. "I told you, we got them together. That's the story," he replied.

"Yeah, but I mean for you. That'll look weird, right? Us not giving each other presents on a holiday _meant for just that?_ " Lance said.

"Okay, first off, I think this holiday technically started off with a baby called Jesus and-or greedy corporate hands," Keith pointed out. "And we'll just tell them we gave each other presents before we came here."

Lance stared at the presents a little longer, but he nodded. 

They journeyed back downstairs, unloaded the wrapped packages under the tree, and started setting up for the Christmas movie (or movies, plural, if they lasted that long). A red tin full of cookies went on the coffee table and everyone spooned their own eggnog into glass mugs. Keith's mom brought out blankets, which Lance looked a little too eager to receive. The movie was popped in and they got comfortable.

Comfortable for Keith and Lance meant sharing a blanket on the loveseat, Lance's arm around Keith's shoulders, bringing him in so they could lean against each other. Keith looked up at Lance, unable to help noticing how Lance still smelled great, even after their long day. Lance smiled at him, all soft and tender and entirely unfair, because Keith had to take a deep breath to try and calm his heart a little.

With several refills and half the cookies eaten, they made it to a second movie. Lance was always the one offering to get everyone a second or third or seventh glass of eggnog and his mom eventually shushed him, saying they'd get one when they needed it or ask him when he stood up. Keith found himself relaxing more and more into Lance's side, to where he was tucked right up next to him in a way Keith never thought would ever happen in real life.

The heat from the blanket and from Lance made him forget about his mom's disbelief about his sexuality, about the general looming thought of maybe never finding anyone, not like how they do in the movies with hetero pairings. Eventually the movie they were watching stopped making sense and he just closed his eyes for a moment. Only a moment. To rest them. Just rest.

And then he was opening them again and everything was colder than it had been. Lance was still there, but the blanket?

"What," Keith started, but he didn't remember to finish because he was looking around. The movie wasn't playing -- they weren't even in the family room.

"Hold on a little longer," Lance said.

They were going up the stairs. "Why are you," he started again. 

"You fell asleep," Lance said and his tone was low, quiet. Where were his parents? "I'm just bringing you to bed."

"Why?" Keith's voice felt too loud. He still felt disoriented even so he knew where they were and he _did_ know why, kind of. Lance was carrying him, that's why they were _where_ they were. 

"Hey now, I treat all my relationships like this," Lance said. They'd reached the top and were heading towards their room. "Even the fake ones." He gave a smile even so he was a little out of breath and it made Keith frown. Frown because he didn't want Lance to be so nice, so sweet, so...

His brain made the connection with feelings and images rather than words. 

And it hurt.

_~*~_

When Keith opened his eyes, it wasn't because he wanted to. In fact, his eyes burned the moment they did, and he turned away from Lance's stupid face and the window to seek comfort in his pillow. It was so warm. The blankets were tucked in around him and there was a weight on his legs that was probably his horrible fake boyfriend.

"Go away," he croaked.

"It's Christmas! Aren't you excited?"

"No." Keith tugged at the blanket, pulling it up towards his face.

"But I smell spices like _cinnamon_. And there's Christmas music playing."

Keith had no idea what he was talking about, but he wasn't all that interested.

The weight on his legs disappeared along with the blanket.

"Hey!" Keith shot up as the cold hit him. 

Lance was standing on the other side of the room, blankets bundles in his arms. He'd already taken a shower and was wearing a navy colored sweater. 

"Are you getting up or what?" 

Keith rubbed at his eyes -- he'd been staring. "Yeah, yeah, hold on. Let me at least go to the bathroom," he mumbled. His feet were cold but his face was burning.

Downstairs, his mom had breakfast in the oven and "All I Want for Christmas is My Two Front Teeth" was playing on the radio. His dad was setting the table and his mom was perched on the sofa, angled in such a way that she would most definitely see whoever, in her words, "finally decided to drag their butts out of bed."

"I'm not the one in pajamas," Lance said, eyeing Keith like he just didn't know what he was to do with him. 

"It's Christmas," Keith protested. "How about we put off dragging me until at least after breakfast."

There were a lot more shiny, wrapped presents under the tree than there had been the night before. Lance even commented on it, eyes wide, but Keith told him it was normal. His mom always liked waiting until everyone was asleep before stuffing the tree with more gifts -- even after he stopped believing in Santa.

"Here you go, Lance," his dad said, handing him a medium-sized box.

Keith had never seen Lance's face go so blank, so fast. "For...me?" he asked. He took the present, but it was with uncertain hands.

"We weren't going to let you get away empty handed now," his dad replied. "We both picked out a couple things together, but, well, we didn't know much about you."

His mom had a very pinched expression that made Keith wonder how involved she'd been in the actual gift-buying, but he wasn't going to ruin it by saying anything. Not on Christmas.

It ended up being two sweaters, a scarf, a set of pajamas, and a Christmas-themed mug stuffed with chocolate. All the clothes were either gray or black and came with gift receipts.

"But we figured, if you're dating our boy, you might have similar tastes," his dad continued. "Which is, well, a bit lacking in color, but at least it'll probably go with most things? And of course, if the size don't fit, you can exchange or return them."

Lance's thumb was stroking the fabric from the pajamas and he didn't say anything for a good long while. When he did, he smiled in a way that made Keith want to rub it away, to make it stop, to _fix it_. "Thank you," he said. "I honestly can't believe-- I mean, _thank you_."

"Of course," his dad said with one of his warmest smiles. 

The guilt gnawed on his insides a little more.

Keith received similar presents, but thankfully, they didn't match Lance's. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to wear them if he knew, somewhere out on campus, Lance owned the exact same thing.

Clean-up was a team effort, but it was mostly just shoveling the torn up wrapping paper in a big plastic bag. Breakfast entailed a lot of pumpkin bread, hot chocolate, and near-future plans. The only thing on Keith's mind was when they ought to leave so they could avoid traffic on the way home. But they all agreed to stay for lunch, so after they'd both packed their bags, Keith brought out his old PlayStation 2 and they set it up in the family room.

"Hey," Lance said, holding his arms out as Keith stood up from where he'd crouched, putting a disc in. "Come here."

Keith frowned, but did as he was told, carrying two controllers. He found himself being tugged down for a kiss and that was fine, but it turned into one of those kisses Lance had given him in the car. And that was fine, too, but it was a little _too_ fine, too okay. Keith liked the way Lance's hand would curve around his jaw, his thumb pressing just ever so slightly. And the way his mouth was soft, at first, but with each little push it was a little firmer, a little more insistent. It made his shoulders tense but his insides melt and he found that his own arms were wrapping around Lance all by themselves.

Somebody coughed, but it didn't register as his mom until a moment later, when they pulled apart.

Lance leaned back and shared a devious sort of smile that only Keith could see.


	4. Chapter 4

Big, fluffy snowflakes started to land and melt on Keith's windshield around the time when they still had about a half hour left to get home. The plastic bags in the back seat rustled with the movement of the car and the heat gently blowing from the front. His mom had been adamant on them both taking leftovers -- there was no way she, alone, could possibly eat that much food before it went bad. He never protested, he always appreciated free food, especially food made by his mom, but she always explained it anyways.

As the sky grew darker, everything seemed so much less vibrant. Like those moments in movies where something dramatic was going to happen, it just had to get very still and very dark first. But the only dramatic thing to happen was that the other cars slowed down. It was only a little snow, people. It wasn't even enough for ice to form!

"Do we have to go this fast?" Lance asked.

"Not you too," Keith said, teeth clenched in a way he hadn't realized before.

"I'd like to live to see next Christmas," Lance said. "Or tomorrow. I'll settle for tomorrow."

Keith threw him a dirty look. "I told you on the way up here, my driving is fine," he said.

"Yeah, I don't think the bugs on your windshield would agree to that statement," Lance said. "Plus, I think the snow is coming down a little heavier."

He was right. Why did he have to be right? Heavy snow meant slower driving which meant it would be a while before they got back to school. He just wanted to drop Lance off and then go home and dwell in his weird thoughts for a long time, figure out what they meant and what he wanted. What he wanted to happen.

He didn't want to have those thoughts while stuck in traffic, sitting next to the person who was making him have them in the first place. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel.

"So there's going to be a party at Hunk's for New Year's," Lance said. "Are you going?"

Keith had gotten the invitation even before he'd made plans to go to his mom's for Christmas. Hunk was one of the best in the culinary department -- there was no way he was going to miss something like that. He'd also heard Pidge and her brother talking about setting up the music and decorations, which meant it was going to be something nobody would expect.

"Yeah," Keith replied. "And you?"

"Of course!"

There was a lull in their conversation. Keith could feel it like how he imagined actors could feel the eyes of the audience during a live show. Maybe Lance felt it, too, because he turned up the volume on the radio. A couple songs later and it was interrupted by a weather report.

"You have to be kidding me," Keith muttered, pressing his forehead against the steering wheel. It wasn't dangerous to do -- traffic had pretty much stopped. But the man on the radio warned them about blizzard conditions and what to do if their car got stuck. How was Keith supposed to drop Lance off and then go back to his own apartment? 

It was possible, he just didn't wanna do it.

"Okay, new plans," Keith practically growled. "My apartment is closer. We go there, you stay the night, and in the morning I drop you off at the dorms. Sound good?"

It took a moment for Lance to reply, but maybe Keith was just over-thinking things. "Yeah, if you don't mind," he said.

If Keith minded, he wouldn't have offered. He managed to not say anything, but he couldn't help an eye roll he directed out his window.

Their half an hour drive turned into a full hour, the silence mostly filled with music and idle conversation. Keith learned that Lance liked upbeat songs and he would move his right leg when it was especially catchy. The snow whirled around them like god or whoever was up there decided to upend down stuffed pillows on the world. Except those pillows were also god-sized.

When they arrived at Keith's apartment, he was glad it had assigned parking, even if it cost him an extra twenty dollars a month. It meant, after a super fast unloading time, they only had to run a few feet to his door before they were enveloped in the warmth of his hallway.

"Oh thank god I remembered to turn on the heat," he said between breaths. Had he forgotten, the pipes would have frozen over and burst. A blizzard _and_ a flood? The end of the world would have better been underway.

After kicking off their shoes, Keith brought Lance over to the living room. He sent a silent thank you to his past self, who remembered to clean before leaving for his mom's. The sofa was a squishy gray thing his dad gave him, so it had worn out patches around the edges, but it was still pretty comfortable.

"I'll get you some blankets and a pillow," Keith said. "If you're hungry, you can warm up some of the stuff my mom gave us. Anything in the fridge. I've got chips and stuff somewhere."

Lance made a face, pretending to be offended. "The couch?" he said, though a grin started to peek through his pretending ."I thought we were at that level already. You know? Sharing beds?" 

Keith rolled his eyes as obviously as he could, but couldn't ignore the way his stomach twisted at those words. "Over here's the bathroom, but let me get ready first," he said, gesturing to a door in the hallway. 

"You learn fast."

Keith didn't say anything, just gave a sort of distracted nod, before bringing his bags to his room. He wasn't going to sleep very well, but he'd sleep better knowing Lance wasn't curled up right next to him.

Everything hadn't gone exactly as he thought it would, mostly because his mom was only mildly uncomfortable. If it had been more than mild, she hadn't shown it, even so Lance had been an excellent actor. A little _too_ good, in fact. It was because of his incredibly convincing performance that certain thoughts and feelings were swimming around in Keith's head, like dirty fish tank water.

Had Lance not been camping out on his couch, Keith would have gone through the motions of brushing teeth while his mind was traveling at a snail's pace, elsewhere. But since he was, Keith did everything at hyper-speed and as soon as he was in his room again, buried himself under all the layers he always piled on his bed.

He tried turning his brain off, even wished for it, but it kept whizzing away with all the things Keith would never say to anyone ever. He didn't even want to address them himself. In fact, he just wanted to sleep and forget, but only he achieved only one of those things.

~*~

Keith opened his eyes to the light struggling to get in around the blinds on his window. He squinted at it, knowing subconsciously that if he were to stride on over and yank the cord, light would sear into his eyeballs. Then his brain caught up and he remembered the snow. And Lance.

He'd been in the process of sitting up when he stopped and listened. The only thing he could hear was the hum of the heater, so he got up and opened the door as quietly as he could. Still, there was nothing. Nothing to hear and nothing to see.

His relief was short-lived as, when he darted over to the bathroom, the door opened up and out walked Lance, directly into him. 

He smelled good.

"Oh, sorry," Lance said and reached out an arm that never made it to Keith's shoulder, because the guy in question backed up. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Keith said. It was very warm. It wasn't the heater. Lance smelled really good. "Are you, uh, done there?"

Lance took a dramatically large sidestep away from the bathroom door, gesturing to it like a magician. "After you."

As soon as the door was closed behind him, Keith took a deep breath and focused on doing things, performing little tasks. Brush his teeth, wash his face, stare at his reflection in the mirror -- no, not that, not the thinking. (Why did everything have to smell like Lance?) But the thoughts came back in a swirling mess while he was in the shower, with hot water trying to relax his tensed up shoulders. They crept up on him while he was rubbing shampoo into his scalp, but when he tried pinpointing the exact moment, he couldn't do it.

He liked Lance, that much was obvious. That had been obvious in the car and probably before that. What he didn't know was what to do. Lance was basically a hired boyfriend -- was that called an escort? Or did that imply something else? 

Keith scrubbed a little harder at his head.

A more mature person would probably just tell Lance, explain their feelings and get it over with. Face rejection or feel relief. Like tearing off a bandaid. But Keith was not a mature person -- or at least, not _that_ mature. He would rather let the bandaid stay until it came off with a bath or shower, easy and without the sting, the pain. 

He had agreed to payment in Taco Bell lunches for a semester. If he told Lance and was shot down, that would mean an entire semester of awkward meals, sitting on hard, plastic seats surrounded by the smell of fake Mexican food cooking in the back. Or maybe they heated up premade things. Who knew. It wasn't important.

What _was_ important was the potentially heavy atmosphere they would have to endure. The air around Lance was always light, happy, _fun_. Keith wanted to enjoy it for at least another semester. And maybe by the end of it, Keith would either confess his feelings or discover those feelings weren't so deep after all. Maybe Lance would get himself involved in a real relationship and Keith would be forced to move on, to get over it. To let the bandaid slide off.

He didn't know how long he'd been rubbing the shampoo out of his hair, but his head kind of ached and the water wasn't soapy in the least. 

Lance was sitting on his couch like he'd always sat on Keith's couch, texting or scrolling through something on his phone. The striped blue and white shirt he was wearing suited him, Keith thought.

"You ready to go?" Keith asked.

Lance lifted his head, but it took a moment for his eyes to follow. "Yeah," he replied. "Just let me get my shoes on."

The Shower Decision, as he was calling it, had helped him so much more than he thought it would. The messy emotions and feelings were all still there, but it was more like they'd been put in a glass jar.

"What have I told you about going out with wet hair?" Lance asked, getting closer than Keith wanted. 

"I'll wear a hat," Keith said, brushing past him towards the front door.

The snow was piled up a good foot or two in most places, with larger snowdrifts in others. Sweeping it all off and around his car was a joint effort and getting out of his apartment complex was a thrilling game of "is this still road?" The main roads were better, thankfully, but it still meant driving in the careful, slow way Keith was never overly fond of. Nor was he actually good at it.

"Dude, if I die, I'm coming back to haunt you," Lance said. He'd been holding onto the handle above the door for the last fifteen minutes. Overdramatic, really.

"You're not going to die," Keith said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes but succumbing to the need to make a face. He made it at his window.

"I saw that and yes, I will die if we keep going this fast, hit a patch of ice, and go smashing into any one of these other cars. Or poles. Or buildings. Look at all the things we could hit. There are so many. So many, Keith."

"You're not going to die!" Keith snapped. "You're not going to die because _I won't crash!_ "

Lance groaned with his head thrown back. "You don't _say_ that! Now we really _will_ crash! You've jinxed it!"

Keith took a deep breath in. It went out a little too fast. "No, you're right. We will crash because then maybe you'll _shut up_." It was just like the trip to his mom's all over again. 

There was a small silence, long enough for Keith to think it had ended, that Lance had taken the hint and finally shut his trap. But that was too much to hope for, apparently.

"Not if I come haunt you," Lance muttered. "I'll talk _all the time_."

Images of Keith's car speeding down the road came to mind just then, where the passenger side door opens and Lance flails a bit as he's pushed out of the vehicle. He lands in a comically large snowdrift before sitting up, sputtering and swearing. And Keith's car just keeps on driving.

It was incredibly satisfying. 

Instead, he did his job and brought Lance to the school dorms in one piece. And alive. He may or may not have made sure Lance made it in okay, ignoring the giant wave sent his way. He could have offered to help Lance bring up his several bags, but that would have meant more awkwardness drifting between the two of them like mosquitoes during summer evenings.

Keith just needed to go home, breathe a little, and focus on something else.

~*~

The party began at nine, but, Keith being Keith, he arrived about a half an hour later. He had to park a couple houses down, but Hunk's parties were always pretty big. Hunk was the only one in their little group of friends who had actually grown up in that town -- he and his family took part in all sorts of events and volunteering. His parents were out of town, gone to another city for business, so Hunk had the house all to himself for a couple days.

The house itself was small with yellow siding and white trim. The yard, as far as Keith knew, had been done by Hunk's dad, though Hunk often spent time outside gardening alongside him. He even worked in Home Depot, though that might have been in order to get an employee discount on all their gardening gear. Needless to say, the house and yard looked amazing.

Keith rang the doorbell because he couldn't remember if he did it last year or not. Did he just go in? Would they hear the doorbell? How long was he supposed to wait until he tried opening it himself?

He didn't worry long, however. The door swung open and there stood Shay, Hunk's girlfriend. She was taller than Keith, which always made him a little more nervous than he wanted to be, with a smile that put most at ease. 

"Keith!" she said -- or at least he assumed that's what she said because she spoke softly and the music coming from somewhere smothered most of everything. She beckoned him in, using the hand that wasn't holding onto a yellow plastic cup.

Hunk wasn't far behind. "There you are!" he said. "Been wondering if you'd show up!"

"Sorry," Keith said, unsure if he'd been heard or not. There were a lot of people. A little _too many_. But he'd promised.

"Just happy you made it," Hunk replied, clapping him on the shoulder. "There's food in the kitchen! Go help yourself!"

"Will do," Keith said. 

Hunk's attention was snagged by someone Keith didn't recognize. In fact, there were a lot of unfamiliar faces, but that much was normal. Hunk was a popular guy. Much like Shay, there was a feeling of ease that surrounded Hunk -- a comfortable, cozy feeling, like any hug received from him would make you feel like the world was okay and safe. 

Keith stuck to the wall as much as he could, slipping through any opening he could find. Eventually he made his way to the kitchen, where the table had been packed full of various snacks and drinks. Even so there were so many different things, they all kind of went well together anyways. It was something Hunk was always good at. 

The plate he loaded up didn't last long, but the Pepsi he poured into a cup did. He brought it out to the living room, where the music wasn't so intense. Shiro and Allura were sitting on one of the couches, so he wove his way around people to get to them; in a sea of unfamiliar faces, the sight of them sent a wave of relief flowing through him.

"When did _you_ get here?" Allura asked. They were wearing matching sweaters. Of course they were.

"Recently," Keith replied.

"How was Christmas?" Shiro asked. 

It was an innocent enough question and Shiro most definitely meant it that way, but it still filled Keith with a sort of embarrassment and shame. Did he know what he'd done over the holidays? Probably not, unless Allura clued him in. Keith still wasn't very comfortable with him knowing he was gay, especially since Keith had had a crush on him for a long time. Well, it wasn't quite so dead and buried, that crush. He liked thinking those feelings had disappeared entirely, but there were a few stubborn ones, the ones that made certain things awkward.

"It was good," Keith said, nodding a bit. "Yours?"

"He went with me to meet my family," Allura said with a devious sort of smile. 

"I did," Shiro admitted, a bit of color tingeing his cheeks. "It happened."

"Anything exciting happen?" Keith asked. "Or did you just meet them?" He knew there was more to the story and he didn't really want to hear it, but it was better than being asked questions about his own holiday adventures.

They were getting into their explanations about how Allura's dad pretended to be the tough dad type, to scare him a little, before it crumbled away and everything became much less nerve-wracking, when Pidge spotted Keith from across the room. The moment their eyes locked, a smirk grew on her face. He had a feeling he wasn't going to like where the conversation was about to head.

She strode over, confident and not so tall, but standing as tall as she could, and Keith had his back to the wall. He checked to see if he could escape somehow, without it being weird, but unless he could make leaping over a coffee table seem normal, he was stuck.

"So Keith," she started. "Good of you to show up. I've been wanting to talk to you."

"Really now."

She hummed a little as a yes. "How were your holidays?" she asked.

"Good," he replied.

"Just good?"

"Yup."

"Anything out of the ordinary happen?"

"Not particularly."

Keith could see the curiosity bloom across both Shiro and Allura's faces. Something was up, but Keith wasn't saying. And he sure as heck _wasn't going to_.

"Is there something we're missing?" Allura asked.

There was mischief in Pidge's eyes and Keith was silently trying to put it out by staring back at her.

Unfortunately, Lance appeared like a well-timed character appearance in a sitcom, followed by Hunk and Shay. Perfect. Everyone together. At least he wouldn't have to explain things a gazillion times.

"Lance!" Pidge said. "I was just asking Keith! How were your holidays?"

Lance immediately looked to Keith. It wasn't something the others missed.

"Okay, something happened here," Hunk said. "I smell a story."

"He visited me for Christmas, okay?" Keith snapped. There was too much aggression in his voice, he knew. A tad bit too defensive.

"I didn't know you two even knew each other," Hunk said.

Pidge was impatient. "How was it?"

"It was good!" Lance replied. "Very good food. We played games, watched movies. Very cozy."

"I bet," Pidge replied, a little waggle of her eyebrows aimed at Keith.

"There is definitely something you guys aren't telling us," Allura said.

"Yeah, fill us in," Shiro said.

"Well," Lance said, looking at Keith like he wasn't sure how much he should be saying. "Keith needed someone to come with him, so I went! We used to share an English class." It was actually Literature. "And Pidge hooked us up. I mean, not hooked up like, like _that_. I mean, she just helped us meet is all."

Nobody looked convinced.

Keith let out all the air he'd been holding in. "I needed someone to play the part of a boyfriend and he played it," he said. The aggression hadn't left his voice, but he'd had enough of all the tiptoeing around the subject, all the prodding and questioning looks. "My mom is kind of homophobic so I felt I had something to prove. That's it." 

The reaction was more or less as expected. Allura and Shiro had similar expressions, with their eyebrows way, way up. Allura had known Keith had been asking around, though, but maybe she'd never thought he'd actually go through with it. Pidge looked smug and full of an evil kind of glee; she was _not_ going to be letting it go. Hunk looked bemused and Shay looked like she was still processing it. 

"Did she, uh, buy it?" Shiro asked. 

Keith really wished Shiro wasn't there. 

"I guess, I don't know," Keith replied and focused on looking at the far corner of the room rather than anyone's face.

"Did you guys kiss?" Pidge asked eagerly. She pounced on the subject so fast, it made him wonder how long she'd been holding back.

"Not answering."

"That's a yes!" she said, jumping in the air a bit. "Refusing to answer is definitely a yes!"

Keith could feel Lance looking at him, but he was very much _not looking back_. Instead, the corner was receiving his intense stares. It was a good thing nobody was standing near it. It was as if Lance wanted to see if he had permission to tell, but Keith was not going down that road.

"We had to be convincing," Lance eventually replied. He flashed one of his easy smiles. "It didn't take much."

"And your dad was okay?" Hunk asked.

Keith shrugged, but then felt bad because his dad was actually really great. "Yeah."

"So how was it?" Pidge asked. Had it been a costume party, being the devil's mom would have totally suited her. "Being Keith's pretend boyfriend. How did it make you _feel_." Satan's mother who freelanced as a terrible, terrible psychiatrist.

"Like a stud," Lance shot back. "But no, seriously, it went by so fast and the food was amazing. So really, not bad."

Allura began to grin and Keith never wanted to see that face ever again, as long as he lived. If he had to, he really hoped it would never again be directed at him. "A convincing performance," she said. "I would have _loved_ to see that."

Lance immediately perked up. "I could show you some of my sweet, fake boyfriend skills," he said with a voice so full of sap, it was a wonder he didn't choke on it. 

"I meant on him," Allura deadpanned.

"Oh, right," Lance said and winked at Keith. What for, he had no idea. "I could do that. This relationship doesn't have to come to an end."

"It already did," Keith said. "The moment we got in my car."

"I'm hurt!" Lance said, putting the back of his hand against his forehead with an expression so dramatic, Keith wasn't entirely convinced Lance _wasn't_ a part of the theater program in school. "Not even a kiss goodbye!"

"There are no kisses for when people break up!" Keith snapped back. He was starting to feel like he was in danger, somehow. Not from anything life-threatening, just humiliating. 

Lance pulled another overly dramatic face. "You never even told me we were breaking up!" he wailed. A little too loudly, in fact. A couple strange faces glanced their way.

Allura and Pidge were enjoying his theatrics, but Shiro just looked like he didn't quite understand, but was going along with it anyway. 

"Console your fake boyfriend, Keith!" Pidge demanded. She wasn't as good as Lance with the drama, so her goofy smile wobbled through the pretend-angry expression. 

"No!" Why couldn't they just leave it alone? He didn't want to talk about it.

"He doesn't love me anymore," Lance said with a heavy sigh. 

Keith opened his mouth to say he'd never loved him, but his own stupid thoughts made him stop. It wasn't love, it _wasn't_. But it was definitely in that area. "Just shut up, please," Keith mumbled.

Lance gave him a look like he didn't quite understand. _It's not a big deal_ , he was probably thinking. And maybe it wasn't, to him, and maybe it wouldn't be looking back on it, but Keith just wanted to talk about something else. Anything else.

"Hey guys, how are you liking the food?" Hunk sort of blurted out. He'd always been good at picking up on feelings, even if Keith was pretty sure he'd been radiating _do not want_ since the beginning. "Personally, I like it. Lots of tasty things. Would I change any of it? Also yes! Everything can always be improved."

"I like the hummus," Shiro said. Keith was less sure about him; maybe Shiro wanted to talk about something else for other reasons.

"Family recipe," Hunk said. "Can't give it to you."

"I didn't even ask!"

"I saw it in your eyes."

Pidge's expression fell a little, though it wasn't something that would eat at Keith's conscious. 

Conversation wandered around like they did throughout the house. Hunk would disappear at times to make more food or put some more soda in the fridge and eventually he started asking if anyone would like to watch something, maybe a movie or a TV show off Netflix. Not everyone joined them, but it didn't matter -- to Keith, it was best kept small and cozy. He wasn't thrilled about the seating arrangement, though, and he had a feeling Allura had had a conversation with Pidge through eye language alone, because he was sandwiched between Hunk and Lance on a couch, with Shiro sitting on the floor right in front of him.

It could have been because Keith was naturally paranoid, but he had a difficult time focusing on the show they'd picked out together. At some point, Lance stretched an arm out over the back of the couch and it wasn't touching Keith at all, but he couldn't help but glance over at Lance. Lance winked back at him and, like before, Keith had no idea why.

The TV was turned to the ball dropping in New York. They counted down together, someone snuck a sparkly headband with the new year on him, and the house shook with the voices crying out in unison, " _Happy New Year!_ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!! :D


	5. Chapter 5

Hanging out on his sofa doing nothing of any great importance wasn't Keith's idea of time well spent. Whenever someone asked, he'd take their shift at the Call Center. It wasn't a job he loved, but it was a job and work meant money. It also meant time he wasn't thinking about stupid things he didn't want to think about anymore.

He didn't consider himself a coward when it came to confrontation in heated situations, like calling someone out on their bullshit. He spoke up when he had to or when it felt necessary. Heck, he even spoke up when his anger took the wheel. 

What he didn't want to do, however, was pursue something he didn't know the outcome of. 

Did he really even like Lance? Or was it something casual, void of any deeper feelings? Had he just been pulled along during the holidays? Gone with the natural romantic flow of things. And did he really want to put any effort in something he was so unsure of?

All those feelings followed him when school started and then the first Wednesday of the semester arrived, along with the source of all those thoughts creating a slushie of confusion in Keith's mind.

He slid into the booth at Taco Bell with a couple burritos and a head full of worry.

Lance slid in on the other side with a bunch of tacos, burritos, a drink, and his energetic personality. If Keith was any other person, he'd have said the cheer emitting from him was contagious.

"This is amazing," Lance said and fished out his phone from his large, brown jacket. Snow was still piled up outside from a full weekend of just that, but the roads and sidewalks had been cleared.

"You're taking a picture," Keith said. "Of Taco Bell."

"It's okay, you don't need to understand," Lance said, angling his phone a little different. It made a little shutter noise every time he took a picture. "Just let me enjoy this."

He definitely had an Instagram. There was no way he didn't. And Keith would bet real money on Lance uploading his weird Taco Bell pictures with filters slapped on, like he'd just gone to a fancy restaurant and was marveling at what had been delivered to the table.

When Lance looked up at him, Keith felt himself almost jump at the sudden eye contact; he'd been staring.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Lance asked.

"Could say the same to you," Keith replied, but he started to unwrap one of his burritos. He focused on the window as he bit into it. Winter meant shorter periods of daylight, so even though it was only five in the afternoon, the sun had already disappeared and everything outside was settled in a monochromatic sort of glow.

"How's the semester been for you?" Lance asked after swallowing the biggest mouthful Keith had ever seen anyone take in his entire existence on planet Earth. "Taking anymore literature classes?"

"No, it's just some biology and math," Keith replied. "Been pretty normal. You?"

Lance rolled his eyes. Keith hadn't noticed how dark of a blue they were until right that moment and he wished he still hadn't. "What do you mean, normal? Normal could mean anything," he said.

Keith shrugged. "Going over the syllabus, being gradually introduced to the various topics, getting homework due later this week. Normal."

Lance nodded and took a long drink from his cup. "Same here. But oh man, wait until I tell you what kind of teacher I have for my oceanography class. Total nut. Came to class wearing full on scuba gear and showed us pictures of his adventures during break. He seems like an okay guy, but not the kind you'd know on a personal level. Just like, oh yeah I know him. We talk. He comes to parties sometimes but do we hang? Nah."

Keith just nodded like he knew exactly what Lance meant.

"He seems kind of unpredictable, but I'm hoping his grading is consistent," Lance continued. "Or maybe he knows he's totally bonkers so he lets his TA grade stuff."

"If only more teachers did that," Keith said and grabbed his soda, wishing it were maybe something a little stronger than Pepsi. Just maybe.

When he returned to his quiet apartment, the first thing he did was find his calendar. Had they agreed to _every_ Wednesday? They had. They most definitely had. And there were so many of them. Wow. He was seriously kicking his past self in the ass.

The next Wednesday came with a flurry of new snow and new conversation topics.

"We are going to talk after I finish this," Lance said, mouth full of what was probably fake beef and suspicious lettuce. The lighting overhead threw shadows on his face whenever he dipped down to take another bite. It also made his hair and skin look almost the same shade of brown.

"Did you not eat lunch?" Keith asked. 

Lance only shook his head -- his cheeks were too full. 

As the weeks tumbled on by, their conversations got steadily less awkward, for which Keith was thankful. Thrilling discussions about weather, traffic, and class faded away with more personal things taking their place. Keith learned Lance's family came from Cuba, for instance, a couple generations ago. He didn't talk much about them and when he did, it was always about the past.

And then one day, Keith must have asked the right questions and Lance must have been in the right kind of mood, because he told him something that felt entirely unlike him.

"I don't actually know my parents," Lance said with a shrug. He picked at the paper wrapper from his meal. "They, uh, died. When I was small."

Keith stopped eating. 

"My grandma took care of me for a short while, I guess, but it wasn't enough," Lance said. His voice was soft and low and Keith couldn't see his eyes for they were turned down, towards his food. 

It was such a quiet sort of shift, but Keith wasn't sure he was supposed to be hearing what Lance was telling him. More importantly, it didn't feel right to have it there in a Taco Bell, under cheap florescent lighting with pop music playing quietly in the background. There weren't many people in the booths around them, but there never were. 

It took Keith a moment longer than he felt was right and he wasn't sure if what he was about to ask was right either, but he said, "Enough for what?" His tone was careful, gentle maybe. He hoped.

Lance cleared his throat and pushed himself up; Keith hadn't even noticed how he'd sort of curled up into himself, sunk down into the plastic seat. "Wasn't enough to take care of me," he said. "Services came, picked me up." Lance was looking straight at him, then, and Keith felt like his breath had been taken away, too. 

Foster care. Lance had been through the foster care system. Keith didn't know much about it, but he'd heard horror stories, about abuse and the shuffling from one home to another. Maybe he flinched or maybe his eyes conveyed an understanding, somewhat, but Lance smiled at him. It wasn't a very bright smile, not all full of warm feelings that would seep out and into others, but it also wasn't bitter.

"Don't feel sorry, or whatever, I didn't tell you to get sympathy," Lance said with a firm voice. There was a lot more strength in it than before, when it was full of faraway recollections. "I just felt like you should probably know. I mean, I know so much about you now."

Keith shrugged before he thought things over too much. "I don't really know what to say," Keith said. He had a habit of plowing into sensitive topics like a dog running through piles of snow for the first time. "I mean, are you okay with talking about it? Can I ask questions? Because if not, that's cool. Just say the word and I won't ask a thing. But if you -- why are you laughing?"

It had started with his shoulders shaking and his mouth twisting up and then back down in an effort to not laugh, but then it bubbled up and out and Keith was left feeling more confused than he wanted, truth be told.

"Sorry, it's just. You're taking this very seriously," Lance said between near-silent bouts of laughter. "And it's serious! It is. But. I don't know, it's really funny right now." He leaned forward until his forehead touched the table. His shoulder still shook.

Keith frowned at first. "I don't understand you," he said. "I really don't."

It only made Lance laugh harder.

And then Keith felt his own mouth start to turn and even though he had absolutely no reason as to why, he started to laugh as well. Maybe the why didn't really matter.

In the midst of all that laughter came a sudden realization: Keith's wavering crush became a very solid 'like,' and it hit him in the chest much harder than he thought possible. Whereas before his feelings of attachment had been drifting around, like a loose balloon low on helium, somewhere it had become tethered to the ground and in need of some serious re-evaluation.

"Okay," Lance said, breathing a little heavier. "I don't, just so you know, I don't usually laugh when I tell people unhappy things."

This only made Keith look at him more confused, which made Lance laugh a little more.

"I'm serious! It just felt too heavy, man. And I dunno, I feel pretty comfortable around you," Lance said, giving a one-shoulder shrug.

Keith felt way more happy than he felt he should have, in that moment. A spark of glee. Warmth filling his chest. A small pang of uncertainty. He didn't know what to say or how to react to those feelings. If he spoke, would he blurt out something he'd regret?

He walked away from that exchange with a heavy feeling in his stomach that wasn't due to three burritos and a medium-sized Mountain Dew. What was he supposed to do? Tell him that he liked him? How does one even _do_ that? And wouldn't it be weird, after everything that happened at his mom's house?

Keith didn't have an answer to any of those questions. He flopped down on his couch and stared at the ceiling as if it held all the answers. He kind of wished it did, that it were that easy. 

And then something occurred to him: did he really _have_ to say anything? He was kind of a pro at pining in secret. He'd had a crush on Shiro for years and never said anything ever and he'd gotten over him! For the most part. Where there once had been a strong sort of longing there was now just an ache. And he could deal with the ache.

Yes, he was going to do what he did best: not saying a goddamn thing.

~*~

School picked up real fast, as did work, and Keith was left wondering where all those weeks had gone. It was getting dangerously close to midterms and he felt like the semester had just begun. How dare the midterms sneak up on him like that.

There was still snow everywhere -- in fact, it usually stayed up until April, which probably had to do with them being so close to the mountains. Once in a while, they'd get a freak blizzard in May and it was all anyone would talk about. May was also the end of the semester and, ultimately, his dates with Lance.

They weren't dates. They were just casual meet-ups in Taco Bell where Keith paid. Yes. Right.

Keith shook his head. Not exactly where he wanted his mind to be. Instead, he focused on the squat, brown buildings around him. Campus usually looked much nicer in the summer. Everything would burst out blooming and there'd be so much more color in everything, not only the plants. Even the people would glow, wearing their brightly colored shorts and tank-tops, big plastic sunglasses. He bet Lance would outshine everyone, his face radiating warmth, exposing more of that smooth brown skin to soak up all that sun and --

Goddammit.

He tried focusing on the buildings again. He just needed to focus on the horizon, on the building he needed to get to. Then he would sit in class, where his mind couldn't wander as much, and he'd be _fine_. Really.

But then Keith saw him a little ways away and his heart stuttered.

Lance hadn't noticed him -- he wasn't turned his way. He was smiling or laughing at something someone had said, maybe one of the girls, and they were all walking like they had nowhere else to be at that moment. Keith often got mad at groups like that because they created a jam -- like when those commercials on the TV showed cholesterol build-up in the body. Just because they didn't have to be in class didn't mean others didn't. 

Keith took an immediate right turn, even so he was nowhere near the building he had to get to. The action didn't even require any kind of thought process, it was like his body knew exactly what to do. He felt stupid immediately after -- why did he need to take a longer route to his class just because he saw Lance? 

It didn't make any sense.

It also made him feel weird the next time they ate Taco Bell together. Had Lance noticed him running away? Was that was he was calling it now? 

"Hey, just a heads up," Lance said. They were close to finishing their meal and Lance was pretty much just picking at the remains. "I won't be able to come next week."

Keith stopped chewing. 

"I promised one of my friends I would go to an art exhibit. One of her pieces is in there," Lance continued. "I don't know if she's got an award or anything, but she asked me a while ago and wasn't sure of the date when she did."

Keith nodded. Yeah, of course. He cleared his throat, realizing he hadn't actually said it out loud. "Sure," he said. "I mean, it's you who will be missing out."

"I _know_ ," Lance said and Keith could almost see hearts in his eyes with the way he looked at the menu above the counter. 

Lance's friend -- who he kept calling Plax, though Keith wasn't sure if it was her real name or just an affectionate nickname -- had always invited him to her art exhibits ever since they became friends. In return, he would bring her to movies in Spanish hosted by the school every month.

"They've got subtitles," Lance assured him, as if that's what Keith was really worried about.

~*~

Keith didn't know what to do. He usually did, or it came to him along the way and he didn't often need to think so damn much. The not knowing was what was really getting to him, the not knowing how to proceed, to make his brain just turn off maybe, for a moment, so he could just relax into a feeling of _who cares_.

He'd gotten over a crush before, he could do it again. Except Lance was everywhere, even when he wasn't. His name popped up in conversations, stupid things reminded Keith of him (seriously? The color blue?) -- he even surprised him once on campus.

Despite what movies portrayed, libraries were not actually quiet. No stern older woman glared at people through her cat-eye glasses or shushed them when things became a little rowdy. People collaborated on projects in the library, they studied together at tables and tested each other on terms. It was exactly for this reason why Keith was wearing headphones. How else was he supposed to concentrate?

He'd managed to work out the chapter he needed to read in order to complete his homework and had just started said homework when someone grabbed him by the shoulders and he shot up in the air. 

Lance was laughing as Keith yanked his headphones out. 

"What the hell?!" Keith snapped.

He was still laughing. The nerve. 

"Seriously!"

And then Lance, who was still struggling with a case of the giggles, plopped down in the seat next to him. "You should have seen yourself," he said. "You jumped like, a _foot_."

Keith would have sworn that the urge to smile wasn't because whenever Lance did, it was always kind of like the feeling one got after watching a fantastic movie where a rag-tag group of people came together to form a sort of makeshift family in the end. But no, it wasn't because of that. It was because it was a funny thing, right? Him springing in the air. And irritating. He hated when people snuck up on him. 

"What're you doing?" Lance asked, nodding to the book. An amused smile still tugged at his lips.

"Homework," Keith replied. "For a biology class."

"Interesting," Lance said, but he said it in a funny voice and then pulled the book closer to him.

"Kind of," Keith replied. "Mostly boring, though. Dry writing."

Lance lit up like he'd seen a puppy. "Yeah!" he said. "The actual content is pretty cool, usually, but the way they describe it! So boring! I wish they could make it sound more, I dunno--" He gestured with his hands.

"Like a book," Keith said and then realized just what he'd said. "I mean, like a novel. Something you read for fun."

"Yeah! If it were written in a style that was a little more casual, I think everyone would understand this stuff better," he said. "Maybe then the scientific community would boom and we'd finally get our flying cars."

"Flying cars."

"Haven't you ever seen _The Jetsons_? Flying cars. I want to live in space, like they do," Lance said and grinned. "Don't you?"

Keith shrugged. He could have made an argument about how that might clutter the sky or maybe corporations would want to stake claims to space, divvying it up like they did land, but he didn't have the heart. There was an ache in his chest, sort of like when he caught a cold sometimes and every time he coughed, it _hurt_. 

Lance nudged him a little, as if to say "Hey, what's up?" with an expression so soft, it just made everything worse.

Keith didn't remember what he'd said or how the conversation flowed after that, but eventually Lance left him to do his homework in relative peace. Had to go meet up with some friends. He was always doing that, meeting with friends and having plans. Lance was the most social person Keith knew, after Hunk. It was admirable, really, even so Keith knew he would have hated to have so many acquaintances to keep track of. 

It was when he was with Hunk that he did something incredibly stupid.

After class, he spotted Hunk strolling towards the parking lot so he jogged a little to catch up.

"You finished for today?" Keith asked.

"Yeah, you?" Hunk replied.

Keith nodded. "But I've got work in a couple hours."

"Ha! I've got off," Hunk teased, hitting him gently in the shoulder. "But I'm gonna meet up with Shay later tonight."

They'd reached the parking lot. Hunk owned a mustard-colored Jeep Renegade. It used to be a Wrangler, because he liked going camping a lot with friends, but he'd traded it in after finding out it was prone to roll in accidents. 

Keith immediately started looking for it. "Got a big date?" he asked, trying to push the teasing attitude back at him.

"Yeah," Hunk said and he stopped walking. "I mean no, I don't know."

An idea floated around in Keith's head, taking root as suspicion. "Hey, are you going to..." It wasn't even him and the words felt embarrassing. 

"Maybe?" Hunk said, looking up with panic and worry painted all over his face. "Should I? I thought about it for a while and my parents have already been teasing me about it."

Keith shrugged. He was literally the last person anyone should ever ask about relationship advice. 

"I've got a ring."

" _What_."

Hunk looked a little sheepish and glanced around. "Not here, I haven't picked it up yet. It's still at the store. But I was planning on heading over there before picking her up," he said.

Keith's heart was pounding and he had no idea how to respond. Did he offer congratulations? But he hadn't yet popped the question and neither had Shay given her answer yet. She would, though. She would most definitely say yes. There was no way she wouldn't, they were both so very much in love and had been for years. 

"Do you want to come with me?" Hunk asked. "To pick it up."

The nod Keith gave was all that he felt he could really give at the moment. _Marriage_. And there'd be a great big wedding because that was Hunk's family -- they did everything big and heartfelt. A glowy, fuzzy, warm happiness. 

The trip didn't take very long and they each took their own cars, on account of Keith having work and Hunk having his obvious plans, but Keith was still jittery with nerves. He was too young to have married friends. Sure, it had been several years since high school, but it didn't _feel_ like it. 

And the ring was, well, a ring. It looked expensive, but he didn't ask how much it had been. Hunk hadn't picked the traditional diamond. Instead, there was a yellow sapphire in the middle, with green jasper chips dotted along the sides. It matched a necklace Shay wore, Hunk had told him. She'd gotten it from her grandmother and, well, there was a whole story behind it that Hunk didn't really want to get into.

"And it's black silver because," Hunk shrugged, "it's cool looking, I guess. And if she says yes, then I'll get a wedding band in the same silver."

It took a moment for Keith to respond. "She'll say yes," he said. He was sure of it.

Hunk looked giddy for one moment, worried the next. He stared down at the ring for a moment, thumb swiping over the sapphire. "I sure hope so," he murmured.

With the ring secured in a little bag Hunk had asked the sales woman to staple shut -- he didn't want it falling out on accident and had listed off several circumstances where it could all go terribly, terribly wrong -- they walked out of the store in silence. It felt heavy, significant. Something life-changing was going to take place.

Their cars weren't very far away, but it felt like an eternity before they reached them. Keith's eyes wandered up out of habit, to scan the area, and then back down to his car door. Then up again. Even when he was in the most unlikely of places, Lance was there. Sure, he was across the street, walking out of a candy store, but he was _there_.

Keith immediately grabbed onto Hunk's jacket and tugged him down with him. There was no thinking, just grab, pull, and drop. 

As he sat there, heart pounding, his reasoning caught up with him. Had Lance seen that? He sure hoped not. What could he give as an answer? That he wanted to avoid talking to him because whenever he did, his chest felt tight and he was overcome with a crushing wave of hopelessness? No, because that was dramatic and he swore he _wasn't_.

"Uh," said Hunk, who was still crouched next to him on the pavement. "I feel like I should comment on this. So I'm commenting. What are we doing, Keith?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this one reads wonky -- it's definitely not my best work. Been pretty stressed about things lately and it was difficult to write fluidly. But I'm hoping the next one is better!! <3 It'll probably be the last >:]
> 
> Note: there will be no update today (14th of January) cause I'm sick. Sorry :( my head feels like a septic tank on fire. super gross. I hope to get it out next week instead!


	6. Chapter 6

Keith waved a hand at Hunk, shushing him. It wasn't all clear yet. Lance just needed to get in his car, yeah. That's right. Just get in, start the thing, and drive off. Keith let out a breath he'd been holding, as if Lance would've been able to hear him breathing from so far away.

"Okay, so that was Lance," Hunk said. He'd been looking through the car windows the same as Keith had. "And we had to drop to the ground because...?"

Keith opened his mouth and realized he hadn't come up with anything yet. So he just said, "To avoid him?"

Hunk gave him a look like, "Yeah, okay, I _got_ that. That bit wasn't hard to figure out on my own." 

"I mean, I didn't want to have to talk to him," Keith tried explaining a little further. "He comes up and talks to me all by himself and I didn't want that to happen, so I thought if he can't see me, or us, he won't come over to chat." It was very warm for March. It seemed to be affecting his face most of all.

"Are you guys okay?" Hunk asked, his eyebrows knit together. "I mean, you guys do that Taco Bell thing every Wednesday, right? Did you guys get in a fight?"

Keith frowned. How did he know about Taco Bell Wednesdays? "No," he replied. He knew he needed better answers than what he was giving, he just wasn't sure how to go about doing it.

Hunk let out a huff and checked his phone for the time. "Okay, so either you can give me the short version now and the long version later, or everything later I guess, but I've got to go home and get ready. Then I'm picking up Shay and going to dinner."

Keith was aware of nodding and of Hunk being right next to him, but not much else. "I," he started, then stopped. He swallowed. "I think I like him." His voice sounded much smaller than usual.

There wasn't any reaction from Hunk save for something that could have been a sigh. "You know, I kind of figured," he said. "You're not the easiest person to read, but I got the feeling something was up. You were extra prickly at New Years. You were always Keith the Cactus, but it felt different."

"Keith the Cactus?"

Hunk shrugged, giving him a grin. "Nobody could get close without you jabbing them," he said.

Keith could sort of see it. He didn't like talking to people in general, except the few friends he already had. They were the only ones to stick around, even when he snapped or got grumpy. They'd argue back and worked through the problem instead of shrinking away. And then there was Lance, but he'd been a special circumstance and, to be fair, Keith hadn't expected anything to come of their deal. He hadn't even wanted it.

"So have you told him?" Hunk asked.

Keith shook his head. "I wouldn't know how," he muttered, staring at the pavement.

"Hm," Hunk said. "Well, we are probably going to have to figure this out together. I kind of figured you guys would hook up, though. You guys _did_ do that super cheesy, most obvious trope in the history of existence."

Keith hoped the look he gave him conveyed the proper level of "what the heck dude" he was feeling. 

"You did! And I was surprised you guys weren't already dating when you announced what you did at the party," Hunk said with a little shrug. "Now I have to go, but hey. We are talking about this later. If you even think about ignoring my texts, I will go over to your place with a big bucket of fried chicken and several gallons of ice cream. I know you don't have a big freezer, so you'll either have to let me in or watch all those sweet, delicious flavors just melt everywhere and live with the knowledge that you helped waste it all."

"It's the middle of March," Keith said. "There's still snow everywhere. How would it melt?"

Hunk shook his head. "Don't you use your logic now," he said. "You didn't when you pulled me to the ground to avoid your super hot crush, so don't start now."

Keith was still trying to figure out how to respond as Hunk opened up his car door and got in. He must have been looking as flustered and as huffy as he felt, because Hunk laughed and rolled down his window.

"Remember -- texting you later. Don't ignore it," he said and drove off.

Keith had a terrible feeling. It was one part hope mixed with two parts regret and shame. A very toxic combination and he'd felt it only once before. The one part hope was what would get him in trouble, when it was crushed and he was left with the aftermath of having to feel stupid. Stupid because he really ought to have known better.

He spent most of his time at work doodling on post-it notes during calls and pretending he was just going to go home afterwards and watch reruns of his childhood TV shows while eating the leftover pizza he knew was waiting for him in the fridge. It was boring and ideal in its predictability. It was comfort. 

When he did get that text from Hunk, it was near the end of his shift and he typed out a quick congratulations before trying to return his focus to work. But it was official: Hunk and Shay were going to get married, eventually. One day Keith would get some kind of cute, rustic style 'save the date' invitation in the mail and he'd probably put it up on his fridge for at least a little while. That's what people did with those things, right? Put it on the fridge so they didn't forget?

And the rest of his shift was spent daydreaming about the what-ifs and could-happens. Shiro and Allura would probably go together, if they were still dating. Heck, of course they'd still be dating. They would arrive and there'd be a little ring on _her_ finger, which would eventually mean another invite in the mail, but with a much different style. And Pidge would show up, probably with her brother because they were best friends and did almost everything together. Plus, he was practically a part of their little group of friends already. 

But then, _then_. Keith let his mind wander into the area he'd been avoiding, but, well, it was _his_ head. It wasn't like he kept a diary and he sure wasn't going to be telling anyone about it. But if he could pretend everything went well for everyone else, why couldn't he do the same for himself? So in his little daydream, he arrived with Lance and it wasn't weird. Pidge wouldn't waggle her eyebrows at him and Hunk probably wouldn't give him encouraging looks or nudges. 

He wasn't sure how people dressed for weddings, if he was being honest. Did they match? Were they supposed to wear the same colors? Keith wasn't a professional in anything fashion related, but he couldn't see how that would pull off well. Maybe they wore the same style suits? Or was it enough to wear slacks and a nice button-up shirt? 

Keith decided right then and there that the daydream was suddenly taking way too much effort and, truth be told, if it ever happened, he would just let Lance plan it out. He seemed to be good at that sort of thing. 

And maybe during the reception, Lance would do silly things to make him laugh. He would certainly have something good to say to the married couple, which meant Keith could probably get away with not saying much himself. Keith wasn't much of a dancer, but he wouldn't mind swaying to a song he didn't recognize so long as Lance's arms were wrapped around him.

The thought made everything suddenly warm, especially in his face, and shoved him straight out of his own daydream. Enough of that, he really ought to concentrate on his job. Out of habit, he glanced down at the clock on his computer and found there was only one more hour to go.

~*~

The first time Keith canceled their Taco Bell Wednesday meet-up, he sat at home eating Doritos on his couch, watching _The Incredibles_ and wondering if there was a way to ease up on the stomach-tearing guilt without actually going to Taco Bell. Lance had bought his little story about being sick -- heck, he'd even offered to go pick up some cough syrup for him at Walgreens if he wanted. He'd also teased him about getting to make the day up at the end of the semester, to extend it like schools did when they used up too many snow days.

And while Keith had agreed, he wondered if Lance would let it go if Keith just never showed up again. He didn't want to do it, but he also did. He wanted to avoid things until they weren't a Thing. But he also didn't want to be an asshole to someone who had never done anything to deserve it. 

So he texted Hunk, who arrived with two whole pizzas and a package of brownies.

"I didn't realize I needed these until you brought them here," Keith said around a huge bite of amazing brownie wonderfulness. He didn't even care if that was a real word or not. That was how great brownies were.

"Nobody does," Hunk replied. "And then they sit in your stomach like they should be making you feel bad for eating so damn much, but you feel only contentment."

Keith swallowed and thought about taking another one. "And maybe the urge to puke," he pointed out.

Hunk waved a hand dismissively. "Even that's not too bad," he said. "But anyways, how are you doing? I'm asking out of regular concern and also because today is a Wednesday."

Did he even know the time he went to meet Lance? How? And why? Though the better question was still the how. "I couldn't bring myself to sit there with him," Keith answered and took another brownie. "It's getting kind of ridiculous."

Hunk nodded while chewing. "Have you thought about telling him?" he asked.

Keith just shrugged, but the feeling of embarrassment flew through him all the same. He didn't want to. What he did want was to never forget to buy brownies ever again. 

"I think you should," Hunk said. "Maybe soon. Could be through text, even, though it feels impersonal."

But texting would be way easier -- if Lance didn't respond, that was that. Keith wouldn't have to hear it from him directly or see the awkward expression he would make while saying it. And Keith could just not see him again. Did Taco Bell give out gift cards? Because if so, he could get one, make one of his friends give it to Lance, and his conscious would be clear.

Hunk shrugged. "You do what you think you have to," he said. "But by telling him, you can at least say you tried. I mean, not to say he would say no or anything. Just, you know. You'd at least live your life knowing what his answer was. Better than reminiscing and wondering, right?"

He had a point, but Keith didn't like or want to admit it. Even so he had quietly assured himself Shiro was straight and there was no way he would have said anything other than no, Keith hadn't known for _sure_. And that little bit of doubt had made it that much harder to stop obsessing over him.

The second time Keith bailed on Taco Bell Wednesday was because, as he wrote in his text, he was still feeling shitty and needed to catch up on his homework. Once again, Lance accepted it without skipping a beat and Keith couldn't help but feel he was doing something awful to a really nice guy. It was official, he was the asshole of all assholes. Asshole supreme.

He ordered a pizza.

Hunk was busy and couldn't come over, but he offered his advice over the phone.

"Just tell him," he'd texted.

Instead, Keith sent him a picture of his pizza and then tossed his phone to the other side of the sofa, turned on the TV, and settled down to watch a gazillion re-runs of _Law and Order: SVU_. 

The third time Keith canceled, Lance called him. Keith dropped his phone from shock, as if holding on would mean electrocution or something similarly awful. With his heart pounding, he waited until the buzzing stopped before he picked it up again and switched it to silent.

What was he going to do? Clearly Lance was getting suspicious. Or he was worried. If he was worried, then Keith was going to get the biggest kick in the ass karma could give him. Either way, Keith had to do _something_. He favored avoidance until the issue went away, but realistically, according to Hunk, avoidance usually made the problem bigger.

So he decided it wasn't avoidance, he was just buying himself time until he could figure out what to do. He could show up to Taco Bell the following Wednesday, but then what? He'd have to have a good reason for not picking up his call, for not even having an explanation for his no-show. He wasn't a very good liar, not in person. Lance would figure things out. He was good at social situations. He'd _know_.

Keith had also started avoiding campus altogether if he didn't have class -- he just studied at home instead of the library and he didn't hang out with all of his friends all the time anyways, so it was easy to just slink away from those responsibilities.

There was a class he always felt a little nervous at having to attend, because it was a long trek across campus from his previous class and there was an hour between, which meant it was too short to go back to his apartment, but long enough to make him feel paranoid. 

The snow from the night before crunched under his shoes and he kind of wished he'd worn boots instead of Converses. It wasn't really all that cold, but the wind made everyone keep their heads bent, scarves wrapped around their necks to keep it from seeping in. 

Everything felt so constricted, so overwhelming. Keith never liked feeling as if he were on the precipice of some huge decision that could impact his life in a dramatic sort of way. It was almost like sitting at the top of a very tall building, feet hanging over the edge, and all he feared was someone sneaking up from behind and kicking him in the back.

The world being gray and dead-looking didn't help any of those feelings. He didn't understand why, but summer always felt like new opportunities were lying in wait, that he could feel motivated -- to do what, he had no idea, but the motivation would just be _there_. Keith knew, though, that he'd just be working more come summer. No classes, more time, it just made sense. But it hung down on him all the same.

And then cold exploded on the back of his head. Ice trickled down into his scarf, down the back of his neck.

He whirled around, grabbing and rubbing furiously to get the cold out, when he was struck in the face with more snow. 

"What the fuck?!" he sputtered. When he could finally see again, he only just managed to dodge another snowball lobbed his way. A dark head of hair disappeared behind a bench. Keith almost froze in place, but yet another snowball sent flying through the air forced him to move. "Dude, what the hell?"

"I could say the same to you," Lance shouted back. He was still hiding behind the bench.

Keith couldn't say he wasn't expecting something like a confrontation, but _this_? The snow being thrown his way? He was pretty sure nobody would have. His own mind was still trying to put it all together.

He got a face full of snow -- he'd been standing still for too long.

"Cut it out!" Keith shouted.

"No!" Lance shouted back. This time, he stood up and Keith saw the snow already in his hand.

Keith managed to turn in time for the snow to hit his back. Well. 

Lance shrieked the moment the snowball came in contact with his face and danced around a little bit, pulling at his turtleneck, but Keith didn't wait.

Swears and shouts were flung nearly as often as the snow, bursting out whenever they were hit somewhere they really wish they hadn't been. People turned to look at them, but they had other things to do and honestly, it wasn't the first snowball fight they'd seen on campus. 

And somewhere in all of that, Keith felt most of his worries and pressure from unanswered questions and general indecisiveness just _lift_. Maybe it was the energy being burnt away, so quick and overwhelming that it burned away everything else as well. Maybe it was because if he thought about anything for too long, he would get a mouth full of snow. He didn't know and didn't dwell on it for too long -- just relished in the feeling of _not_ thinking, just acting. 

Then Lance leapt over a hedge, yelling something incoherent, and plowed straight into Keith, dragging them both into the snow. Almost immediately after, Lance started just sweeping snow into Keith's face. It wasn't hard -- Keith was sprawled out on the ground.

Keith kicked him -- or at him, he couldn't see very well -- and sat up. More fistfuls of snow were shot at each other until Keith just couldn't anymore. Breathing hard, he flopped backwards on the ground and closed his eyes. The sun had begun to show and he was tired, his eyes were tired, he just wanted to breathe and sleep and not think. Yes.

Lance had stopped when he'd stopped and collapsed down next to him. He could hear he was breathing heavily as well.

"Seriously though," Lance said. He was so close. "What's up?"

Keith smiled almost sarcastically before shrugging. His worry hadn't quite caught up with him just yet. "Nothing's up," he said, watching the clouds move. "Well, the sky, maybe, and space after that and who _knows_ after that--"

Lance's face blocked out the clouds. His eyebrows were knit together and even when he looked worried, Keith still found his heart bouncing a little. "Can we have a real talk?" he asked.

But Keith didn't want to. Did he say that? So he shrugged. Again.

"Then can I tell you something and you promise not to hit me?" Lance asked.

Keith couldn't help but narrow his eyes. "What?" he said, slowly.

"You see, when you say it like that, I can't help but think you're gonna hit me," Lance said, leaning back.

Keith sat up. "Okay, I won't hit you," he said. 

"And no kicking."

Damn.

"No violence of any kind."

"Yeah, yeah," Keith said. "Get on with it." Honestly, he still felt like _he_ was the one in need of a good punch. 

"Okay," Lance said. He was looking more nervous than the time Keith's mom told them they could share a bed. "Okay. Um. Well, you know how you asked Pidge if there was anyone to uh, be your boyfriend?"

Keith just stared.

Lance swallowed. "She just happened to know somebody available who uh, who kinda had a thing," he said, "for you."

The snow was soaking into his jeans, his hair was probably freezing in place, and Keith did not give a shit. 

He made to talk, but Lance got there first.

"Please don't be mad, but if I told you I like you, would that be weird?" he asked. 

Keith couldn't figure out what to say. Hell, he couldn't even figure out what to _think_. He stared at the snow between his shoes and tried to process it. The whole time, Lance had liked him? _Him_. During the car ride, the dinners, and all those conversations? And all that time spent worrying, fussing, being unsure what to do. And Lance could just _say it_? Just like that?

Lance nudged him with his foot. "Hey," he said softly. "Everything okay?"

"You asshole," Keith croaked out.

"What?"

" _You asshole_ ," Keith said, enunciating it more clearly, but he continued before the nervous look that overtook Lance's face could stick. "I've been beside myself with worry and with stupid thoughts like _oh no, what do I do with these feelings_ , and you just come out and _say it_?! Where was _your_ indecision, _your_ personal freak-outs? Huh?"

Keith was losing feeling in parts of his legs. Mainly the parts that were still in the snow.

"So, uh," Lance started. "Can I take that as you saying _hell yes, Lance, you get a promotion_?"

He turned to look at him, arms crossed. "What?"

And then Lance grinned, though it wasn't untouched by a bit of apprehension. "You know, a promotion," he said. "From being your fake boyfriend to your real one."

Keith couldn't help the smile pushing up on his face, even so he still tried pretending he was mad. "I don't know," he said, huffing a bit. "Have you really _earned_ that promotion?"

Lance's jaw dropped. "Excuse you, I think I did more than my fair share of hard work," he said. "Not only should I get a promotion, I should get a raise."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

Keith gave him a once-over, as if he were sizing him up. "I'll put it in for consideration," he said.

Lance groaned before pushing a laughing Keith backwards, back into the snow.

"Might even have to sleep on it!" Keith said, staring up at him with a grin.

"Is that right?" Lance said.

"That's right," Keith replied. It felt very quiet right then, with only the trees rustling and the sharp smell of ice and snow. And Lance. He always smelled good and _god_ , Keith had missed that.

Then Lance leaned down while Keith pushed himself up and they kissed like they hadn't seen each other in years. It wasn't very smooth or anything like he'd ever seen in movies -- heck, the kissing they'd done at his mom's house had been done with more finesse -- but it was the best Keith had ever had. Lance's hands curled around either side of his face while Keith's arms wound around his neck, and Lance tilted his head a little and the kiss somehow became deeper and more tender.

It wasn't until they heard someone howl that they remembered where they were and promptly broke apart.

Lance cleared his throat. "I think that was directed at us," he mumbled.

Keith couldn't respond because his brain had gone on vacation. The clouds were back in his line of vision, but he wasn't seeing them. If anybody asked, they'd have a long time waiting before they got a reaction.

He didn't know how long they spent laying side by side and he couldn't say when they'd started holding hands, but when his brain finally returned, there they were, intertwined and resting between the two of them.

"Since when have you liked me?" Keith asked. The moment he said it he regretted it, but only because it broke a very comfortable silence.

"Since I first saw you, pretty much," Lance replied, turning to look at him. "We did those stupid introductions in the beginning of class and when you stood up, I just thought _hot damn_."

Keith rolled his eyes, but was he feeling a little giddy? Yes. Very much yes. "I had no idea," he mumbled.

There was a snort. "Dude. I thought me prompting all our kisses was sign enough," he said. "I don't even think your mom was around for one of them."

What? When? 

"And I thought the whole scenario would be a great way to confess," Lance said. "Though, thinking about it, I can't remember why. But anyways, you were kind of distant afterwards so I thought, okay. Meeting up on Wednesdays with just the two of us is kind of date-like, right? Maybe I can work up the courage to just spit it out. Ease us both into that kind of feeling. But then you went AWOL on me and here we are. Slowly losing our limbs to hypothermia and frostbite."

"Hm."

Keith could have gone on like that, stretched out and pretending he wasn't skipping class, but a face blocked out part of the sky and it wasn't Lance's.

"Why are you guys sleeping in the snow?" Pidge asked. She looked considerably warmer than how Keith felt, wearing a soft scarf big enough to hide half her face in and a hat that nearly covered the rest of it.

"It's good for your health, don't you know," Lance replied.

"I think that's the opposite of how it goes," Pidge said, crouching down. "If there was a saying, that wouldn't be it." She turned her head and shouted, "Hey Hunk! It's okay! They're not dead!"

"Yes we are," Keith said.

"We were happily enjoying the afterlife, you know," said Lance. 

"If this is the afterlife, then we _all_ fucked up," Pidge commented with a tilt of her head. Her glasses reflected the snow and Keith couldn't read her expression.

Hunk arrived with a backpack hanging off one shoulder and a suspiciously excited face. Then his eyes moved down and Keith understood why; he and Lance were still holding hands.

"Aren't you guys cold?" Hunk asked.

Keith shrugged. "I can't really feel anything anymore," he replied and chose to sit up, taking his hand back. Hunk definitely knew something was up, but Keith felt that if he said something right then and there, it would come out sounding weird. Better to let it simmer a bit, let him figure out the words.

"Can somebody help me up?" Lance asked. "I can't really feel my legs."

Keith would have done it if his own legs weren't also frozen, so Hunk grabbed Lance's arms instead. And then he offered his hands to Keith. 

"Great, now that we're both standing, how about we go get something to warm us up," Lance said. He was looking right at Keith. 

"Do you guys have anymore class?" Hunk asked. "Cause if not, we can go back to my place and I can make us all soup."

"Can you swing by a Starbucks on the way?" Pidge asked. "I've been up all night working on a midterm essay. I need something to keep me going."

"Sure thing."

They made their way to the parking lot and Keith couldn't remember who started it -- he was _pretty_ sure it was Lance -- but someone threw snow at Hunk's head. Naturally, Hunk needed to retaliate, but since he didn't know who did it and nobody would confess, he went for everyone. And then Pidge went and shoved Keith into a bush, which meant being showered in snow.

He went to throw a snowball back at her, but it sailed over her head and hit Allura, who was walking by with Shiro.

"Oh shit," he said and wanted to back up, but he just ended up hitting the bush again.

"Keith," Allura growled, wiping snow from her eyes.

And then Lance shot up from where he'd been hiding behind a different bush and threw more snow at her.

" _Lance_ ," she shrieked.

They didn't get to Hunk's house for a long time -- Allura and Shiro joined the fight and then Pidge suggested they make teams. As soon as she said it, Lance claimed Keith for his team and Keith was not sure how he managed to fight like his normal self after that. It was only until more people started popping up, wanting to get to their cars, did they finally call it a day.

"I think I could live off this soup for the rest of my life," Lance said. He had his head resting next to his empty bowl like it was the love of his life. 

They all sat around Hunk's dining room table, the cold from their fingers almost completely gone. Hunk had made them all tea before he started on the soup.

"That," Hunk said, pointing his spoon at him, "would be a terrible life decision. Limiting your food choices to just one thing is always never any good."

"I think I want to marry it though," Lance said and yawned, which made Keith yawn. 

"Oh yeah?" he said. It slipped out before he could catch it.

Lance immediately lifted his head and reached out to pat Keith on the arm. "No worries, babe, I'd always marry you first," he said.

" _First_." 

"There's no way you can save yourself from that one," Pidge said, pushing a piece of bread around in her bowl. "Either you're getting divorced later or this marriage isn't a monogamous one."

"We can share the soup," Lance pleaded, grabbing Keith's hand. 

"Have you asked the soup what they think about this arrangement?" Pidge asked.

"This is getting really weird, really fast," Allura said.

"Yeah, and it's _my_ soup," Hunk said. "I feel I ought to have some kind of say in this."

Keith pulled his hand away, but not without giving a little shake of his head. "I'm not discussing a marriage arrangement with soup," he said.

"Then without the soup?" Pidge asked, waggling her eyebrows.

"Don't steal my line!" Lance said.

Keith rolled his eyes and stood up. "I don't know about any of you, but if I keep sitting here, I'm never going to get up again," he said, picking up his bowl.

"You can just put that in the sink, I'll get to it later," Hunk said as Pidge shouted, "Don't avoid the question!"

"You're not leaving, are you?" Shiro asked. 

Everyone looked at him.

Keith shrugged. "I was thinking of heading back to my place," he said. He really just wanted to crash in front of the TV or something and if he fell asleep there, then at least he'd be in his own home.

At the sound of that, Lance suddenly stood up. "I'm going too," he said.

Keith shot him a look, but he only got a cheeky sort of smile in response. Well, he supposed they probably needed to talk some more and it wasn't as if he hadn't slept around him before. He very much wanted to be outside in that moment; the cool air would do him good.

"Hold up, you guys want to go to the movies tomorrow?" Hunk asked while they were shrugging on their coats. "It'll be Friday, after all. Last day before spring break."

Before Keith could even formulate an idea of a response, Lance said, "Sorry, we can't."

"How come?"

"We're going to be at Taco Bell," Lance replied and opened the door.

"What? But it's not even Wednesday!" Hunk complained.

Whether Lance hesitated because he didn't know what to say or because he wasn't sure he was allowed to, Keith didn't know. And he didn't wait for Lance to come up with something, either.

"Sorry," Keith said, his face heating up before he even got the words out. "But a date's a date."

"Hey, wait a sec, you just can't leave like--" 

Keith closed the door behind them, cutting off the rest of whatever Pidge was going to say. He was going to get a flurry of text messages later, so he didn't feel too bad. He also didn't want to have to stand there, answering questions. The sooner everyone treated them like normal, the better.

"A date, huh?" Lance said.

They hadn't yet made a move to go to Keith's car.

"You were the one who sprung the whole Taco Bell thing," Keith replied. "You didn't even ask."

Lance took a hold of the front of Keith's jacket and tugged him closer. "I didn't? Well then, would you like to go with me to Taco Bell tomorrow evening?" 

"I might have to give you a rain check on that."

Lance jaw dropped. "Don't you dare," he said.

" _Fine_ ," Keith said, as if it wasn't going to be something he would look forward to. "But does it have to be Taco Bell?"

He was pulled in for a kiss, something short and soft. 

"Yes," Lance said, staring at him with very serious eyes.

Keith smacked him with a laugh. He couldn't help it. All his worries and stress had been swept away and he was still basking in the emptiness of it. Emptiness was maybe the wrong word -- he felt like he could defy gravity, jump and he would just drift up, drift down, sort of like how it looked to walk around in outer space.   
Hand in hand, they walked over to his car. It was a long way 'til Christmas, but Keith couldn't wait to bring Lance with him to meet his parents once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this!! And an especial thank you to everyone sweet enough to leave a comment <3 <3 <3 it most definitely made me eager to write up chapters and get them out! :)


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